The Mockingbird Conversation
by Lovie247
Summary: It's going to be a sweltering Summer in Atlanta. Michonne is trying to manage her life and find her joy. Rick is managing his new career. Will uncovered mysteries from the past be the undoing of not just their lives, but the lives of their family, friends, and community? AU/Richonne No Zombies
1. Chapter 1 - The Beginning

**Chapter 1 – The Beginning**

"This heat is gonna kill me. I can barely breathe." He said for what must have been the tenth time that morning.

He was one of the new guys. Most of the other crew members didn't bother to learn his actual name, so they just called him _Break-Time_ , because if he wasn't complaining about the heat, the cold, the dust, the lack of a regular food truck and so on, then he was asking when they were due for another break.

"Why would they wait until the hottest day of the year to finally break ground?" He grumbled to nobody in particular.

It was mid-May and the temperature was expected to get up to 90 degrees. It was certainly not characteristic of Georgia. The little overcast that they currently enjoyed was quickly dissipating and making way for the sun in all its glory.

The work crew had been there since 4:00 in the morning, it was now 8:00, and most of the men were not in good spirits. This was a job that was supposed to begin five months earlier, and here it was May. Most of the usual crew members that worked for Gregory Construction had been hired on with other construction crews, so many of the men, on this particular day, did not know each other very well, if at all. This job was supposed to have started in December, during Winter Recess while the kids were out of school. The men in the Construction Company were excited because working during the holiday meant double pay, but low and behold, the city or school district, the guys didn't know which, dragged their feet getting the permits, so here they are; extreme heat and No extra pay.

"Come on guys!" Shouted Dale Horvath, the job foreman. "The sooner we get things set, the sooner we can call it a day."

Dale was a well-liked man. He looked good for his age, which the guys put at around 60. His hair was mostly grey with some wisps of chestnut. It had probably been about 20 years since his hair was more chestnut than grey. He had a permanent tan, which undoubtedly had come from years of working in the sun. The men all respected him because though he was tough, he was always fair.

"I know you guys are ready for a break," Dale said looking in the direction of five of his men sitting on a nearby railing immersed in conversation "but let's get the final area marked off then we can get this show on the road."

The overall lackluster mood seemed to shift among the men, at the thought of actually moving the show along. For the next hour or so the worksite was humming along like the well-oiled machine that the Gregory Construction crew generally was.

"Hey!" came a shout from one of the men working inside of the building that was the current focus.

"Hold up!"

The men all turned to the direction of the shouting- annoyed at yet another stall.

"There's something there!" James, one of the new guys shouted. The dust covered his clothes, shoes and a good portion of his uncovered arms.

"I said there's something in there!" He exclaimed with more agitation in his voice.

"OK everyone…Hold on. James…what the Hells goin on?!" A tired and annoyed Dale shouted over to the area that had finally begun to look like progress was being made.

"What the Hell!" He said once again as he slowly began to make his way over to the area. James knocked dust off his pants as he walked towards his boss. He picked up his pace, walking hurriedly in fact, as Dale noted, and certainly much faster than was acceptable on an active work-site. Dale's face turned from annoyance to…concern, when he took note of the look on James' face.

"What's goin on?" The older man asked of his much younger laborer.

The silence that probably only lasted for seconds, seemed to have gone on for an infinite amount of time, ended with James' whispered words.

"I think you need to see this," He shakily forewarned his boss.

Dale looked at the young man with an odd consternation, but something told him not to ask _the_ question. They walked back in the direction where James had just come. A few men fell in line behind them and they all walked in an odd silence to their destination.

Tyler, one of the crew members who'd worked with Dale for the last eleven years, quickly made his way over to the foreman.

"You need to see this." Tyler said in his most calmly frantic voice. The words that he didn't say were spoken in no uncertain terms all over his face – fear.

"What the fucks goin on Tyler? Every time we get this shit ship rolling there's yet another stall." He barked.

"You…you…just follow, I mean…come with me." Tyler stuttered out.

Dale pushed his way through the few guys that were blocking the view of something that he was not yet privy to. He got to the front of the men and looked down in the direction where all eyes were focused. He looked at a blue polo style shirt, or at least it was once blue – age had added a yellowish hue. In line with the shirt was a pair of jeans which had also been aged to an odd shade of brownish blue. Dales face frowned as he made a quick and uncomfortable assessment of what he was looking at. Within the clothes were the unmistakable skeletal remains of a human male.

Dale stumbled back, horror on his face, shaking his head. He removed his hard hat and ran his hand through his sweat soaked hair. The men all looked away from the grim site before them with their focus planted on the boss that they all respected as he ran his hand between his face and his hair. He said in an almost whisper…

" _It ….it can't be…that's…that's…Johnny Anthony…Oh My God… That's Johnny Anthony."_

* * *

"Happy Birthday to ya…Happy Birthday to ya…Happy Birthday." She sang in her most melodic voice.

"Thank you mom." Michonne said to her mother-in-law. "You are always the first one to call me every year. You know I love you right." She told her in a whisper.

It was five o'clock in the morning and Michonne was barely waking up. By this time she would usually be up, but she decided that just for today, today especially, she would give herself a few extra minutes in bed.

"The obsessive need you have to be the first person to wish me happy birthday is beyond insane…you realize that right?" She laughed as she began to stretch her legs.

"I beg your pardon…it's not crazy or obsessive," she paused, "I just love you more than everyone else," Jacqui said with a chuckle.

"You are too much. I have no idea what I'm gonna do with you." She laughed again at her mother-in law.

Michonne and Mike Ridoux had been divorced for six years. Theirs was a very amicable divorce. No overtly unkind words spoken no accusations of inappropriate dalliances, no arguments over property or finances, no drama. They just simply stopped communicating and fell out of love…if they were ever truly in love. Theirs was a friendship that turned romantic, then became solely romantic, then became…well…neither. They worked hard over the last several years, before and after their divorce, to make it back to friendship. But Jacqui Ridoux stayed as far out of their marriage, and subsequent divorce, as she possibly could; she simply loved her daughter-in-law. They had been through a lot together. Years of love and mutual respect didn't and doesn't just go away simply because dissolution papers are signed.

Michonne held Jacqui's hand when she began her radiation treatment after the breast cancer diagnosis, and cried with her when Jacqui was told she was cancer free. Michonne gave the first toast of the evening at Jacqui and Lawrence Ridoux's 40th wedding anniversary party. And, Michonne sat between Mike and Jacqui on the first row of the church pew, left fingers laced with Mikes and right hand rubbing Jacqui's arm during the home going service of Lawrence before they laid him to rest three years ago. Yes, they were most certainly family.

"So what do you have planned for today baby girl?" Jacqui inquired.

"Nothing big…I'm still going to work, but maybe I'll go and get a mani-pedi after…, ooh, hold on a second," Michonne said as she glanced down at her phone to see the incoming call.

"Let me call you later, my other mom is calling," she said with a snicker as she prepared to push the green icon.

"Okay sweetie, enjoy you day. I love you." Jacqui said as she released the line.

"I love you too. Talk with you later," Michonne said as she accepted the incoming call.

"Hey Mom," she said enthusiastically.

"Happy Birthday honey. How are you?" Her mom Patricia asked.

The question was one of simple formality because she already knew the answer. Patricia knew that her daughter was not excited about her birthday and had been somewhat depressed lately.

"I'm good." She sighed, "I could use a couple more hours of sleep though. I just talked to Mom Jacqui." Michonne shared.

"I figured she'd already called. I know her need to call you first." Patricia laughed.

Patricia and Jacqui had a very cordial relationship. No one would ever accuse them of being best friends, but they had a mutual respect and compassion for each other. The love of their grandson was the unseen indestructible thread that tied them together. Andre truly was the love of both their lives, and for that reason alone, their bond was unbreakable.

"Yeah, she's consistent if nothing else," Michonne replied.

She continued to talk to her mother about her plans for the day while she began her morning routine. After she made her way downstairs to start breakfast for Andre, she headed to the laundry room to grab the clothes out of the dryer.

"Well I'm glad you're gonna do a little self-pampering today." Her mom continued, in reference to the pani-pedi.

"Hold on one second mom…Andre!" she shouted. "It's time to get up!"

There was no sound or movement from her son's room as she headed back upstairs.

"I thought school was over." Her mom inquired.

"It is, but he's going to the office with me today. I'm not letting him hang out at home all day…especially with his behavior as of late." She tells her mom with a frustrated sigh.

"Look mom, let me go. I'll talk with you later"

"Okay honey. Just don't be too hard on him." Her mom implored.

Over the last few months Andre had been in trouble at school for a number of different reasons, but most having to do with his mouth. He was not one to back down, especially if he thought he was right. Unfortunately, his teachers did not appreciate that part of his personality. He was an _A_ student, which made it that much harder for his teachers to control or placate him. Mike and Michonne met with his principal and teachers so often that they had dispensed with all formalities and referred to each other by their first names. Michonne even went to happy hour with a few of teachers on occasion. It was actually during one of their nights at happy hour that Mrs. Jones, Andre's history teacher, mentioned a program to Michonne that's run through the Sheriff's Department in conjunction with the Atlanta Police Department for high achieving students who may have issues as they transition on to high school.

"I won't mom. I love you." Michonne said as she quickly rushed to hang up before her mom could dive into her defense of Andre, espousing how it's probably the teachers, not Andre, with the problem. The child could really do no wrong in her eyes.

She spent the next hour locking horns with her son; the ultimate power struggle. He had no intention of going to work with her without letting his point of view be heard. Andre was 13 years old and pretty sure that not only did he know everything, but shame on everyone for not recognizing that very clear and true fact. He planned to be a lawyer, like his mom, but unlike his mom, he didn't plan on stopping there. His plan was to be a Supreme Court justice, like his idol Thurgood Marshall, so that he could help shape laws and make the world into a place that makes better since… _to him at least_.

"I'm not going to keep debating this with you. Go on and get your clothes on so-," she paused when she heard her phone.

"Let me go get that. You get ready boy…No more conversation." She said as she ran to her bedroom to grab the phone. As she picked it up, she saw Mike's picture on the screen.

"Hey," she said almost out of breath.

"Hey to you…Happy Birthday. You sound like you're spent already and it's not even seven yet." Mike observed.

"I was downstairs. Just ran up here to get the phone. I've been in an argument with your son for the last hour…I'm ready to send him off to boot camp on a faraway island." She said in an exasperated groan.

Her growing frustration with their son was nothing new to Mike. Over the last year the three of them had been having regular conversations about their child's mouth. Mike tried his best to be the buffer between his son and ex-wife, but her strong will and stubbornness could only be matched with his. They were almost too much alike to co-exist in the same abode without some kind of intervention.

Everyone always remarked at how much Andre looked like Mike. He had Mikes complexion, Michonne use to call Andre peanut, because he was the color of a peanut and just as yummy she'd always say – _back when she still liked him_ , he had hair like his father and it certainly looked like he was gonna get his father's height. He even had his father's hands. The only thing, without question, that he took from his mother… were her eyes.

"Do you want me to talk to him?" He offered. "I hate for you to sound so perturbed, especially on your birthday. And, speaking of your birthday, what do you have planned?" Mike asked.

"In answer to both your questions, yes, please talk to your son. And, as for my birthday plans, I don't think I'll do much. Maybe get my nails done after work. It's just another reminder that I'm that much closer to aching joints, gray hair, and death." Michonne deadpanned.

"Uh…Okay, I see you're not in the best of spirits today. Where is all that coming from?" Mike inquired with just a touch of concern.

Michonne didn't respond. She realized that she shouldn't have gone on that mini rant with Mike on the other end of the line. Even though they were divorced, he still felt a strong sense of responsibility towards her. When she was out of sorts, no matter the reason, he believed that it was his job to fix the situation. They were friends. He really wanted her to be happy. He had moved on with his life. He'd had a few different girlfriends since their divorce and had dated quite frequently. His current girlfriend, Sherry, was the one though. Michonne was pretty sure that he'd ask her to marry him before the year was over. But, she on the other hand, had not yet allowed herself to open up to another man.

"Look, do you want me to take you and Andre out to dinner tonight? We can go to that restaurant you like," asked Mike.

"Thanks for the offer Mike, I appreciate it. But I'm gonna just get my nails done, pick up a nice bottle of wine, and find a movie on Netflix. If you want to pick up Andre for the night…that would be wonderful," she said with a little giggle.

Maybe the little venting did make her feel better. She appreciated her relationship with Mike and his concern for her, but right now, she felt lost for some reason. She loved work, but right now it was not satisfying her. She loved her son, but right now he was just driving her crazy. She loved her friends and family, but right now, they were just not enough. Right Now…nothing was…Right. She knew, though she hadn't actually expressed it verbally, that the lack of true intimacy in her life was becoming her undoing. She didn't miss sex… _well Yes she Did_ , but she definitely missed the intimacy of simply having someone hold her hand. She missed the eyes of a man that could look into her eyes with the conveyance of understanding…as well as passion.

There was no doubt in her mind that going out with Mike would lead to him feeling the need to fix her, and her need would allow it. It would be a mistake. Though they had been good together on a sexual level when they were married, the intimacy that she needed, that she longed for, was not there. They had worked hard over the last several years to truly be friends and she didn't want her feelings of emptiness to lead her to do something that could undue, or at the very least, confuse their relationship.

"Okay," Mike agreed. "I know you're taking him to work with you, so I'll pick him up from your job around lunchtime and he can spend the night with me. Plus, I know you're supposed to meet that sheriff's deputy about the program you wanna put him in. I can meet with him for you if you want. Just text me all the info."

After she gave her phone to Andre she continued getting ready for work. She turned on some soft music while doing her morning workout. Today would just be some squats, crunches and push-ups. She decided not to do her whole routine because of the lack of time. All the time dealing with her stubborn teenage son had put her behind. She then jumped in the shower. Upon getting out of the shower she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She admired her reflection. The woman looking back at her was beautiful. Even in the midst of her own personal pity party, she could still appreciate her comeliness…her elegance.

She saw her toned body that she worked hours every week to achieve, she saw breast that held up pretty well after nursing Andre for just over a year, she saw not marks or blemishes and her locs _though she thought were getting a little too long_ , looked very polished. She didn't always take the time to admire her appearance, but today she did. She didn't know what a 37 year old woman is supposed to look like, but she figured she looked pretty good for her age.

She then glanced down at her hands…perfect _creamy_ dark chocolate. Did they always look like this? Were they the hands of a 37 year old? Do they look like her mother's? She then stared down at her left hand, at her ring finger…the memory of when it once adorned a beautiful gold band with small encrusted diamonds and rubies, Mike had the ring made special for her- _the rubies were her grandmother's birthstone._ She felt a sudden rush of sadness, regret, heartache and…something she barely recognized – _longing_. Looking back at her reflection the problem with her body was clear- _had she never recognized it before…_ it was her eyes. She had sad eyes… _what is going on with me_?

"Mom!" Andre's shout jerked her out of her reverie.

She heard him just outside her bedroom door. He was at an age now where he no longer just walked into her room. The idea of seeing her less than fully dressed was gross beyond words to him. He also made it clear that she was not to walk into his room without knocking either. The idea of her seeing him less than fully dressed was equally disturbing and gross beyond words.

"Mom, are you ready to go?" His tone that of indignation. "Dad said he's picking me up from your office, and he said to apologize to you for talking back...oh and happy birthday by the way."

 _Wait…so was that my apology…_

oooooo

As they drove to her office, located in downtown Atlanta, they rode in silence. It was already shaping up to be a pretty hot day. At just 7:00 it was almost 80 degrees. Andre was fiddling with his phone. Michonne watched as they entered into the city; watching as her view went from that of single family dwellings and apartment building to that of small office buildings giving way to large skyscrapers.

She pulled into her assigned parking stall, took a deep breath before exiting her car, knowing without a doubt that her co-workers would make a big deal about her birthday. Normally she would be on board with any and all celebrations, but this year she was just… _out of sorts._

"Andre," she turned to her son before he could jet out of the car and over to the elevator. "As soon as we get in there, we'll go over what you can work on until your dad gets here. I'm sure Glenn has lots of stuff you can work on." She told him without looking directly at him, knowing that he was probably rolling his eyes.

Glenn Rhee was one of the paralegals in the office and he and Andre had a very good relationship. Glenn was impressed by how smart and intuitive the young man is, and Andre thought Glenn was cool.

"Fine mom…Now can I go?" He wasted no time in biting back.

 _Blake, Pelletier & Brooks_ was one of the most highly regarded law firms in Atlanta. It was not a firm that handled high profile cases or cases that garnered any type of large pay out, but they were highly regarded because they handled many cases within smaller and urban communities where the residents didn't generally have an opportunity to get the best legal defense.

The office was massive. The partners had offices along the exterior, where they had their very own windows overlooking all of downtown Atlanta. There were five smaller offices for each of the associates; Michonne had been an associate for _Blake, Pelletier and Brooks_ for seven years. The entire center of the massive office consisted of various desks and cubicles for the secretaries, office assistants, accountants and paralegals.

Well, her co-workers definitely did not disappoint. True to form, Michonne walked into an office that was fully and completed decorated in birthday adornments. The office was filled with balloons, streamers, and banners. HAPPY BIRTHDAY MICHONNE flyers and posters were pasted up along all the walls of the office common area, as well as her own office.

As much as she didn't want to celebrate this year, she couldn't help but be taken aback by the effort and kindness that was put into all the decorations. She was truly touched.

"Honestly I don't know what to say," she said as she exited the elevator to a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday belted out by her co-workers. She refused to cry, which is exactly what she wanted to do.

"I can't believe you guys did all this." She said in a near whisper. She looked over and at her son who was normally unimpressed by most things that adults did, but took note of how truly impressed he appeared- _Wow, he actually looks like he's choke up…_

"We just wanted you to know that we appreciate you Michonne." Carol Pelletier spoke up. She was one of the partners and someone that Michonne considered a true friend.

"We all love you." Shouted Maggie Greene, one of the firms associates. Maggie started at the firm the same year as Michonne; Michonne, Maggie, Rosita Espinosa, Sasha Williams, and Tara Chamblers made up the associates team at the firm. They called themselves, _unofficially of course,_ the Lipstick Dream Team. They were all good friends, and because of the late hours that they worked most days, they really had become each other's best friends.

"I love you guys too." She said as she quickly made her way to her office. If tears did fall, she certainly did not want it to happen in front of the entire office.

After the fanfare and enjoying the birthday breakfast that Carol had ordered, the work day was under way. Michonne looked over and saw Andre happily working with Glenn. She began looking over the case she was currently working on regarding housing discrimination when she received a text from Mike letting her know that something had come up at work and he needed her to take Andre to the meeting with the sheriff's deputy. He informed her that he would meet them there, hopefully before the meeting was over. The girls wanted to take her out for drinks after work, instead the mani-pedi plan, so she was hopeful that Mike would make it there to pick up Andre. _Maybe this will end up being a pretty good birthday after all._

oooooo

Driving over to the Sheriff's Office, she was lost in thought when Andre shook her arm…

"Mom, did you hear that?" he asked in his excited and mildly frantic voice. He was pretty sure that she wasn't paying attention to the radio, even though she's the one that turned it on. She turned to him with a tinge of annoyance.

"Huh?" she mumbled.

"Did you hear that?" he repeated.

"They found a body buried under my school this morning."

oooooo

"Where's Carl!"

Rick Grimes shouted over to the group of teens that were playing softball in the park located near the high school. He was on his lunch break and drove over to the park to give Carl money for lunch. As he approached the group of teens he made a quick assessment of the area. Having been a sheriff's deputy for almost twenty years it was essentially second nature for him to survey his surroundings at all times.

"Have you seen Carl Grimes?" Rick directed his question to one of the teen boys who looked somewhat confused by the question.

"Uh… I think he's over there." The pimply faced teen pointed and looked in the direction of the small bleachers which sat on the other side of the baseball diamond.

The first thing he noticed was the complete lack of adult supervision. The next thing he took note of was that his son was not amongst the kids that were broken up in two teams. Carl sat on the small bleachers with a teen girl. Even at a distance Rick could see the smitten look on his son's face. This was obviously a girl he liked…more than a friend.

Carl was just shy of his 14th birthday and already nearly as tall as his father. It was as if unseen hands had come down, attached a string to his head, and pulled him straight up. He was definitely a gangly teen. His dark brown hair had gotten so long that it almost rivaled that of the young girl he was presently googling. Rick was trying to let him start making his own decisions about certain things, one of which he figured should be his hair. Rick planned to broach the subject of a haircut again… _just not right now_.

After his divorce three years ago he applied for, and was easily promoted to, a new position as the liaison between the Kings County Sheriff's Department and the Atlanta Police Department in the youth education and enrichment program; put together through a joint task force to target boys with the potential for great success, but who had the possibility of slipping through the ever widening crack of the educational system.

Rick retained his home in Kings County, but lived during the week days in a modest sized apartment in Atlanta. Carl had been attending middle school in one of Atlanta's more affluent school districts for the past two years. Though he had shared custody of Carl with his ex-wife Lori, their son spent most of his time with Rick. He saw his mom mostly on the weekends.

"Carl!" Rick shouted over in his son's direction.

Carl looked up and smiled over at his dad. He leaned down and whispered something to his young female friend before beginning his walk towards his father. Although he and his dad didn't always see eye to eye, he still had a very close relationship with him. It was it preference to be with dad. He loved his mom _, I mean, she's mom,_ but his dad was also like his friend as well as just his dad.

"Hey dad…What's up?" Carl exclaimed happily upon reaching his father.

"Hey son…I just came over to give you a little money in case you wanna get something to eat…or, buy your little friend some ice cream." He smirked while ruffling his son's hair and glancing over to the bleachers where Carl's _girl_ friend was still seated.

"C'mon dad," he bashfully retorted, "Stop."

"Okay Carl. I'll leave it alone…for now at least." Rick raised his eyebrow at his son with a smile as he looked into Carl's deep cerulean eyes…eyes which mirrored his own.

"By the way, where are the adults? There are supposed to be at least two deputy cadets here with you guys at all time. I looked around and there's nothing but teens and pre-teens around here." Rick said as he did another scan of the area.

"I don't know. I saw them walking over to the Mart a little while ago. Maybe they're still over there." Carl assumed while also looking around.

"Okay, well I'll deal with them later. Here's some money." He said while pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He handed his son a few crisp bills and watched him stick them down into his pocket.

"Thanks dad." He happily exclaimed.

"Oh dad…wait, what's going on over at the school? We saw all the news vans and the police have the whole area around the school blocked off. Is it true that they found a body under one of the classrooms they tore down? Who is it? Is it a man or a woman? Can I-"

"Carl," Rick interrupted his son's harangue with a slight chuckle.

"Hold on there son. First of all, you probably know as much as I do right now. With social media and all, by the time this day is over, you'll probably know more than me. Plus, you know there ain't much I could tell you even if I did know anythan." Rick said with his most southern drawl…which tended to slip out periodically.

"But dad-" Carl attempted to continue, but was cut off by his father.

"No but dad's…look I need to get goin'. I have a new young man starting the program and I'm meeting with him and his parents." He stopped and looked down at his watch, "in about ten minutes." He said as he began to start his walk back to the parking lot.

"The van will drop you off at my office at 4:00 as usual, so I'll see you then." He ruffled his son's hair once more as he headed away.

oooooo

As she pulled into the sheriff's lot, Michonne glance down at her cell phone to both see the time, and to see if she'd received any text messages from Mike while she was driving. She was definitely hoping that he would make it there before they were done meeting with the deputy. Andre had spent most of drive there complaining about having to be in the program. _The program was really for troubled kids and he wasn't troubled, he was just smarter than his teachers and they resented him for pointing out their inability to support their assertions_ _._ Michonne was really ready to put him out on the side of the road.

She parked the car and began gathering the paperwork that she had put together to give to the deputy, just so that he could get a true sense of who her son is. She slipped back on her heels, she generally slipped them off when she drove, and opened the door when her phone buzzed in her hand. She looked down at the phone, surprised that it was her mom and not Mike - _that's who she was hoping it was,_ she answered.

"Hey mom…what's up?" She inquired as she waved to Andre to get out of the car.

 _There was silence on the line._

"Mom," she said again hurriedly, wanting to quickly tell her mother that she'd have to call her back.

 _Silence…but the sound of hurried breathing._

"Mom…are you there?" she inquired with panic slightly rising.

"Honey….I need you to come over to the house….I….I….need you to come over now." Patricia shakily mumbled.

"Why…what's goin on?" Her worry reaching its peak.

"I need you to come home." She said in a whisper.

"What's wrong mom? What's wrong?" Michonne said in a panic. She knew her mother better than she knew anyone and there was no doubt in her mind that something was seriously wrong. She didn't realize that she'd been standing in the middle of the parking lot until a car lightly honked at her. Her son went immediately to her side.

"Baby, I need you to come home…it's…they…they found your dad baby," Her mom said before she went silent. Michonne knew that she was silently crying. Crying the tears that Patricia had probably not shed for many years.

Before Michonne could say anything else, almost afraid of what the answer might be, she looked up and saw Mike walking towards her. He _mouthed what's going on_. She nodded her head and looked away from him.

"Okay mom. I'm on my way." She said without further discussion then released the line.

She looked up at Mike and over to Andre. Both wore unabated concern all over the face.

"That was my mom…I have to go. I have to go. Can…can you meet with the deputy and give him this information about Andre." She said as she handed Mike the folder and began walking towards her car.

"What's wrong?!" He shouted over to her. Hoping she would stop so that he could make sure she was Okay.

Without stopping she shouted back… "I DON'T KNOW!"

oooooo

"Mr. Horvath," the young officer continued, not looking up from his notepad.

"Your men said that you know this man, that you said his name is…" the officer trailed off as he fumbled through his notes.

"Johnny Anthony. You said his name is Johnny Anthony."

The sun was now up and out in all its majesty. The entire area surrounding the school had been cordoned off. News crews were on the other side of the tape clamoring for someone from the police department to make a statement. Word had gotten out about the improbable find after one of the crew members, Dale is pretty sure that it was Break-Time, tweeted out a bunch of different hashtags - _body found, worksite, school_ – didn't take long for people to figure out what was going on.

"No, I didn't know Mr. Anthony." Dale frowned, sighed, and continued to rub his hand over his face and through his hair.

"Then-" the officer started but Dale cut him off.

"I never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Anthony young man." He reflected then continued.

"But everyone who was around Atlanta thirty years ago remembers him…or at least when he disappeared. His disappearance made national news, but us local had a first row seat. And…and the clothes on the remains over there- _he pointed to the area now swarming with officers and forensic scientists_ \- are the clothes he was wearing when he was last seen. The description was given over and over again. It was… is…etched in my brain."

Dale paused as he took a moment to truly consider his words…

"You know, he was an attorney working for a black teacher who was suing the school district for wrongful termination when he disappeared. The city was a powder keg back then…maybe still is one." He proffered and shook his head. And quietly said…

"I hope this isn't the spark."

ooooooo


	2. Chapter 2- Found

**Author's Note** : This will be a 16 chapter story - my nod to TWD canon- and will be updated at least once a week. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read, review and follow this story...I am so grateful and very humbled.

* * *

 **Chapter 2 - Found**

As she drove, all the memories, ones that she believed were gone many years ago, flooded back. The memories of her childhood. All the questions. She turned the radio on to drown out her thoughts, but even as the artist belted out their latest hit song, it couldn't push away her thoughts.

 _I'm sorry that you heard what they were saying about your dad. We can talk about it if you want to honey_.

She turned the radio up and rolled down the driver side window. The heat mixed with the air conditioning was a good distraction.

 _Yes baby, your father loved…loves you. Don't ever question that. He'll be back. He'd never leave you on purpose. He's been working on a really important case, but don't worry...hey, you can have anything you want for dinner and you can sleep with me tonight. We can stop by the video store and pick up a movie. I know you wanted to see that Disney movie, um, can't remember the name, but you can pick anything you want._

"Why is there so much damn traffic," she mumbled to herself. "Why aren't all of these people at work?"

 _Your Auntie Olivia is coming over to help me pack up a few of your father's things…No, we're not giving them away sweetie, they're just gonna be in the garage. "Mommy, is daddy coming back. Is he dead?" No honey, he's not dead and Yes, he'll be back. That's why you have to be the best girl you can be. Make sure you keep doing really good in school so he can be proud of you._

She switched between radio stations. For the next thirty minutes her mind drifted continually to the conversations of yesteryear; Conversations she had with her aunts, with her uncles, with her grandparents and especially with her mother. Conversations that, even as a child, she knew…she just knew, there were things that were left unsaid; some secret that only the adults were privy to. _All the fragmented conversations._

 _Found your dad. What does that mean? Has he been in some foreign country all this time? Maybe he's been in Mexico with a whole different family. Has he been some kind of fugitive all this time? Maybe it was some kind of tax evasion that no one wanted to tell her about. Maybe he's been hiding out in Switzerland or some other country that has an extradition treaty with the United States. But…with all the research she'd done some years back, she knew that none of those scenarios were very likely. Found could mean all kinds of things. I probably should've asked. found…Found. It could mean…but mom was crying. Were they tears of joy – tears of grief?_

"When was it that I stopped asking questions?" She pondered quietly.

ooooooo

The second she turned on to her mom's street she immediately took note of the two Atlanta Police Department cars and the King County Sheriff's Department vehicle parked on the street. There was also a black SUV with tinted windows. With her limited knowledge of that type of vehicle -based more on television than her career, thank you CSI and Criminal Minds- she figured it belonged to some individual or individuals connected to a law enforcement agency.

Two men in police uniforms were standing by one of the cars, and another man, dressed in a dark suit, wearing dark shades, stood near them while speaking on his phone.

Instantly it hit her. Whatever this is, _is_ really happening. She slowed to a crawl as she took in the scene. She pulled into her mom's driveway and placed her car in park. I can do this. I can do this. She sat in her car to gather the courage she knew she'd need to deal with this. She tossed her phone into her purse, opened her car door, and walked towards the dark brown decorative carved door that she'd spent her lifetime entering.

Before she could reach the door, it opened. A tall redheaded man dressed in dark blue jeans, a dark suit jacket and an oddly colored tie walked out. He was followed closely behind by a shorter dark haired man dressed in a sheriff's uniform, and, right behind them…there was her mother.

Michonne stopped in her tracks. That look on her mom's face. It said everything. He had been Found…

"Baby," Patricia extended her arms to her daughter. No other words were spoken as Michonne dropped her purse and ran the few steps to her mother's arms. It was a hug…an embrace to rival any and all before. They held each other so close and so tight that no wind, no light, no turbulence, could find its way in. The quiet and calm in that embrace held thirty years of unsaid words: of unspoken despair.

Patricia whispered into her daughter's ear "He's been Found baby. He's…" She pulled slightly out of the embrace to look in her daughter's face. She raised her hands to either side of Michonne's face and used the pad of her thumbs to wipe away her child's tears. She then pulled her back into her arms.

They stood there longer, wrapped in their own private bubble. Patricia knew without a doubt that their lives would not be normal again, probably for quite some time. So right now was her time to just love her daughter. Shield her daughter for these few moments. Protect her baby for just right now.

The officers were reluctant to interrupt the mother and daughter, but, they did have a job to do. The dark haired deputy walked over and picked up the temporarily discarded purse, and along with his colleague cautiously approached the women.

"Excuse me Ma'am," the red haired man said as he cleared his throat to signal his approach.

"We hate to interrupt, but if we could have a moment," he said with a gentleness that didn't appear to be a natural part of his personality.

Both ladies, unwilling to let go of the other, looked in the direction of the officer.

"I'm Detective Abraham Ford, and this - he pointed over to the other man- is Deputy Shane Walsh. We've been assigned to this case," he said directly to Michonne.

"We wanted to go over a few things with your mother - smiling slightly at Patricia- however; she did not want to speak with us until you arrived."

"Excuse me," Michonne interrupted as she wiped away a few stray tears.

"I still don't know what's going on. Where is…where did you find my father's…" She trailed off, and then went silent. Her mother took her into another embrace.

"Can we go inside and have a seat?" Deputy Walsh asked.

"So we can, um, go over the information." He said.

Michonne silently nodded as the deputy handed her her purse. She, her mom and the two men headed into the house.

oooooo

For the next thirty minutes or so, Detective Ford and Deputy Walsh explained the events of the morning and the unearthing of Johnny Anthony.

A wallet was found in the pocket of the faded jeans, and the identification in the wallet was that of Johnny Anthony. Mrs. Anthony would be asked, eventually, to identify the wallet. However, a positive ID would be made through dental records, which would be completed within the next twenty four hours. The skeletal remains had already been moved to the coroner's office. The FBI had not yet taken over the case, but due to the possible high profile nature of the case, that was probably a foregone conclusion.

The men took turns going over the little information they currently had.

"Mrs. Anthony," Detective Ford said looking over at the woman who was tightly holding her daughter's hand, but the somewhat vacant expression on her face relayed that she had checked out of the conversation some time back.

"We would like to go over your recollection of the last time you saw your husband. I know that it's been thirty years, but now that we know, well -he paused for a moment- now that this is no longer just a disappearance, we would like to do our best to reconstruct the last day that Mr. Anthony was seen…alive," he said as calmly as he could.

"Would anyone like coffee?" Patricia said, pulling away from her daughter as she stood. Michonne jumped up and grabbed her mom carefully by the arm.

"Mom, we're fine, don't worry about that," she said in an attempt to assuage her mom.

"Mrs. Anthony, we're fine, Really. Don't-" Patricia interrupted Deputy Walsh as he stood.

"It's no trouble," she said fiddling with the handkerchief in her hand which seemed to be her small nervous tick.

"You know, I think I'll just go lay down for a little while…Michonne -she looked over at her daughter - you put the coffee on for the two officers. But, it's so hot; maybe just give them some lemonade. I have a pitcher in there that I made fresh yesterday." She rubbed her daughters face, kissed the back of her hand, and without another word turned and walked towards her bedroom.

The sudden silence in the room lasted for only seconds before the men turned to face Michonne.

"Mrs. Ridoux, we are really sorry about this. We can only imagine how overwhelming all of this is to both you and your mother, -Deputy Walsh paused glancing over at his colleague before continuing- we will do our best to use your mom's previous statements to help piece all of this together. But, we will need to speak with her eventually." He proffered.

Michonne had been quiet during the officers recanting of developments that had brought them all to her mother's living room on this particular day. She was dutifully trying to process everything.

"I appreciate the consideration you've shown my mom. She's really overwhelmed right now," she hesitated, looking into the eyes of the men for their honest reaction before posing her question.

"Will my father's name be released?" She asked with the hope that this would not turn into a media circus.

"Unfortunately we can't answer that Mrs. Ridoux. We just don't know." Detective Ford answered as honest as he could as he and his colleague walked towards the door.

Michonne nodded acknowledging the inevitable.

"Please take our cards both men handed her a card and contact either of us if you have any questions."

ooooooo

"So what ya think?" Shane Walsh asked his friend and colleague as they exited the Anthony house and headed to their vehicles.

"I think we're heading into a shit tsunami if we don't wrap this fucker up quick. And I don't see how we can do that with a fucking thirty year old case. Fuck!" Abe grumbled.

"Yeah, I hear ya brother. And, the daughter is a lawyer like her father. Something about her tells me that she ain't gon' be a quiet participant in this. I was looking at her. She was doin' calculations and deductions the whole time we were there." Shane said glancing back at the house.

"Yeah, I saw that too." Abe said as he reached for his door handle.

"You headin' back to King County?" He asked Shane before getting in his car.

"Nah. I'm gonna stop by Ricks. See what he and my god son are up to."

ooooooo

Michonne grabbed her phone out of her purse as she headed to her moms room. She saw several missed calls, some from people she hadn't spoken to in a while Wow, almost forgot that it's my birthday and several text messages. The only text message she opened with the intent of replying, was Mikes. His message was short…

 _Is Mom Trish OK?_

She responded that her mom was Okay and that she'd call him tomorrow. She considered asking him about the meeting with the deputy, but decided to discuss it with him later.

She walked into her moms room and found her sleeping on her side. She took note, maybe for the first time in a long time, of how beautiful her mom was. Her face was like chocolate porcelain with barely any obvious signs of aging; her hair, which was now more gray than black, was long and thick. She took her moms hand, which was so much like her own, kissed it, tenderly stroked her hair, and then left the room heading back towards the kitchen. There was a slight vibration in her pocket. She looked down and saw the picture of Maggie's pretty smiling face. She hurried gingerly to the kitchen, ensuring she was a good distance from her moms door before answering the call.

"Hello," she said in a whisper.

"Hey birthday girl!" Sasha shouted in the direction of Maggie's phone which was sitting on the desk.

"You're on speaker…me, Mags, Rosie and Tara are here." Sasha exclaimed.

"What time are we getting together?" Maggie chimed in while she walked over to Tara to hand her a folder.

In that instant, Michonne was yanked back into the bigger reality of her new life. The daughter of the man found under the school. The pity, the sympathy, empathy, sad knowing nods…all of it.

"You better not skip out on us chica," Rosita said with a laugh before she continued "almost every time we're ready to go out, you come up with some lame ass excuse not to go. But, it's your birthday, so no excuses this time," she said as she walked closer to the desk.

"And you're gonna wear something that shows off your figure…not like that thing you wore the last time," Sasha said as all the ladies giggled.

"Girl you know you got a body for true sin," Maggie said.

"Yeah, but a mind for the retirement home," Rosita chimed in as they all laughed.

Michonne had not actually been paying attention to her friends and their quips. She made the decision, standing in her mother's kitchen that this was not about her. This was about her mother and her son. She needed to protect them. She would stand in front of them; she'd make sure that any arrows thrown -figuratively speaking- would hit her and not them.

"Chonne, are you still there?" Tara inquired noticing that her friend had not said a word since she said hello.

Silence

"Michonne!" Sasha said, a little too loud "are you still there?"

"Huh," Michonne mumbled.

"Oh…yeah… I'm sorry," she responded softly.

"What's goin' on Chonne'? What's wrong?" Maggie asked with rising concern as all the ladies looked at each other.

"Well," she started "actually, things are not really OK," she said, letting out the breath that she didn't realize she was holding…

Okay, so this is it. Right Now. No more pity party. Time to put those big girl pants on. Time to handle this.

"You guys probably heard about the body that was found this morning at the school. Well, the man's name is Johnny Anthony…my father. -The women quietly gasped as they took in the information- They can't actually make a positive identification until the report comes back on the dental records, but…well, they're pretty sure that it's him," she paused, "I know that your first instinct is to tell me how sorry you are for me, and I appreciate that…but right now, I wanna get out in front of this. I have to protect my mom and Andre." She hesitated for a moment… the ladies remained silent.

"Mom and I met with a detective from the APD and a deputy from Kings County. They both seemed competent -why was the deputy there?- but Tara if you can do some checking to see why the King County Sheriff's Department would be involved in this case. I have an idea of why, but I want to know for sure. Maggie, if you can check with your friend at the City's Permit office and see if we can find out who requested, and who approved the construction permits thirty years ago; and who requested them this year. Just a thought I have. Rosita, can you contact the construction company that's working at the school? My thought is that all work has been put on hold indefinitely, so this is probably a good time to meet with some of the men that found…my...uh father. I know that we all have other cases we're dealing with right now, but this is my priority. I understand that it can't be everyone's,"

She paused, giving the women an opportunity to process what she was saying,

"and you know there's no way I'd ever be mad with any of you if you can't help, but…this is something that I have to do." She took a moment to gather her thoughts.

"I'm not leaving this investigation solely in the hands of the APD, the Sheriff's Department, or the FBI for that matter…Oh, and Sasha-"

"I know. Already ahead of you," Sasha interrupted as the ladies looked at her with faint confusion.

Michonne went to law school with both Sasha and Maggie. Though she was a few years older than both, the three of them became inseparable. Before they were a part of the Lipstick Dream Team, they were the Three Lady Musketeer's. Michonne was the only one of the three that was married or even in a serious relationship at the time, but it didn't stop them from forming a true sisterly bond. Michonne convinced herself that the reason she didn't ask Maggie to help her begin looking into the facts surrounding her father's disappearance was solely due to Maggie's heavy load in school nothing else. But, there was a part of her that knew that wasn't completely true - she hadn't thought about any of it for over ten years.

"Okay…I'm gonna spend the night with my mom tonight. I'll try and schedule a meeting with the detective and deputy for tomorrow; see if I can get my Auntie Liv to come and stay with mom. There are things I'd like to go over with them without my mom present. If any of you have an opening in your schedule tomorrow, I'd love some company. I'll send a group text out once I confirm a time and place. Also, I'll call Carol to let her know everything that's going on. I wanna make sure to keep her in the loop. I'll call Daryl Dixon and see if he can make the meeting. He's the best P.I. and tracker we have, and probably the only person I know with instincts as good as mine," she smirked to herself as she peeked down the hall to make sure her mom was still in her room.

"I know it's a lot to throw at you guys all at once…but…I don't really have much of a choice," she said, hoping that her friends would not hear the desperation in her voice…but, also hoping that they would.

There was only a moment of silence before each of the women stated their response emphatically and almost in unison.

"We got you Babe."

ooooooo

"Uh, I'm sorry Deputy Grimes," Mike said while shaking his head in Andre's direction and smiling sympathetically at Rick.

After the paperwork was completed for the program, Rick, Mike and Andre began discussing a variety of topics. Most of these types of programs were run by deputies or officers that believed it was best to spend the first half of the program "breaking down" the kids, to figure out what makes them tick and bluntly illustrate the stark realities of life; then spend the second half "building up" the kid, guiding them toward positive life choices. Rick, however, was intent on not continuing on that path.

It was important to Rick that all of the young men he worked with felt like true stakeholders in the program, from the beginning, so he always spent extra time getting to know the child and parent; and allow them to know him. The conversation started with sports; they were all Falcon's fans. He took note that Andre was not much into the outdoors and had never been camping or fishing -yep, the camping trip will be a definite shock to his system.

The conversation became more of an interrogation, and Rick had rapidly become the defendant. Andre grilled him on everything from politics to superheroes.

"The deputy doesn't have to tell you who his favorite superhero is son," Mike continued getting frustrated with his sons' cross-examination.

"Well, actually Andre, I'm not really familiar with superheroes. I know who superman and batman are, but I leave all the superhero stuff to my son Carl. He's a real big comic book fan. I'm not really much into that." Rick told almost apologetically.

"It's OK Deputy Grimes, I won't hold that against you." Andre said with the honest sincerity that only an unjaded child could possess.

Rick realized that he would probably need to enroll in some type of extension class or another kind of class to keep up with this kid.

ooooooo

"I'm glad you stopped by before heading back home," Rick told Shane as they lounged on the patio of Rick's apartment.

"You know I wouldn't come into town and not stop by," Shane responded while drinking his beer in the 90 degree heat.

The two men had been friends since middle school in King County. They had a parallel existence for most of their lives; same middle school, same high school, same Sheriff's Academy. Their lives were actually identical, at least from an outside peripheral. The variance along the road of their lives was definitely in their personal lives. Shane was a confirmed bachelor with no desire to get married or have children. Rick on the other hand, got married right out of the Sheriff's Academy and was very happy to become a father.

Though Rick and Lori Grimes had not been happy for many years, neither was ready to have the conversation. But…the love was no longer there. The short arguments turned into long silences; the long silences turned into palpable animosity. Ricks duty bound nature did not allow him to walk away from his marriage. It was Lori that finally asked for the divorce.

"I figured the captain was gonna send either you or Dodds as soon as I heard the news from Barry that there was a high likelihood that the body was Johnny Anthony's." Rick said as he took another guzzle of his beer. "Have they made a positive ID yet?" He asked.

"Nah. We should have it by the mornin' though." Shane replied. "But there doesn't seem to be much doubt that it's him. No names will be released, even though - he stopped to ponder the information that was already being circulated - with all the blogs and tweets and whatever else, his name is probably already out there. Every conspiracy theorist will be coming out of the woodwork." He proffered.

"Cap must think it's connected to Stookey if he sent you out here so fast." Rick said peering down the hall to Carl's room. Since Carl had already expressed an interest in the case, he certainly didn't want him to know that his Uncle Shane was actually on the case.

"Yeah, he didn't waste any time…though I don't think any of us really believe there is a connection, but after what happened thirty years ago, it's all about the appearance of collusion." Shane laughed at the ridiculousness of his captains overt politically motivated actions.

"I'll be working with Abe. He's good…just crazy as hell." They both laughed remembering the time they had to pull Abe off of a suspect in the Stabler case when the man called him the dumb-ass-ginger. And, the many times they'd gone out for drinks and in his drunken haze he recanted various sexual exploits…every time.

"Who would've thought that you'd end up being the calm one in a duo. Now you get to see what's it's like working with a hot-head." Rick chuckled while finishing off his beer.

"Forget you Asshole," Shane kidded his friend then laughed.

"Anyway, we met with Anthony's wife and daughter earlier." He said.

"So, how'd it go? Can't imagine what his wife was thinking." Rick offered.

"She didn't really have much to say. I think she was in shock. It really was…sad." He said as he looked off into the distance.

"Yeah," Rick agreed.

Shane's ringing phone snapped them out of their momentary contemplation. He looked down at the phone and waved over to Rick indicating that he would just be a minute. He walked back into the apartment, "Hello," he said into the phone as he walked further away from Rick.

Rick took this temporary break in their conversation to gather up the empty beer bottles and enter the apartment as well, closing the door behind him. It felt so good in the apartment; the air conditioned room was extremely welcome. He went to the kitchen to dump the bottles then rejoined Shane in the living room.

"…OK, see ya' tomorrow," Shane finished.

He looked over at Rick, "That was Abe. He just got a call from the daughter. She wants to meet with us in the morning…said she has some information to go over with us."

"Really?" Rick inquired.

"I told Abe that she wasn't gonna be sittin' on the sidelines. Hopefully she won't become a problem. I mean…I feel sorry for her and her mom, but we don't need some lawyer with a bug up her ass gettin' in the way of our investigation." Shane said with a whiff of umbrage.

"You have any idea what kind of information she has?" Rick asked, ignoring his friend's annoyance.

"Nah." Shane said as he walked back into the kitchen to grab the bag of chips off the counter.

"But," Shane continued with a sudden and slight smirk, "she's cute…probably not appropriate since she just lost her dad. Well, not really just lost him…kinda lost him a long time ago, but since she just found out, maybe it's kinda like she just lost him…Well, Fuck! Just sayin' she's cute. Fuckin' incredible body." Shane finished his stuttered ramble with a laugh as he looked at Rick.

"Okay, I know it's not appropriate so don't look at me like that, Shane laughed again you're the boy scout, Not me." Shane deadpanned.

Rick didn't offer a comment with his mouth, only with his eyes.

"Speaking of women with incredible bodies, or any women for that matter, you need to get yourself a girl…unless you're making a career change and headin' to the priesthood." Shane said with his usual smug look.

Carl walked into the room and very nonchalantly added to the conversation, "My dad doesn't like girls," as he headed into the kitchen.

"What?!" Rick sniped, jerking his head towards his son as Shane laughed.

"I don't mean it like that dad," he offered as he left the room and entered the kitchen. He grabbed a soda from the refrigerator, leaving his words hanging in the air, and then walked towards the men.

"What I mean…is that you're not like a regular guy like Uncle Shane. I mean, you only want to be a dad, not go out on dates. Uncle Shane goes out on dates a lot he grinned in Shane's direction but you just hang out with me." He shrugged at his dad.

"I'm just more selective than Shane; it doesn't mean that I don't date or that I don't like girls…women, for that matter." Rick said with a snarl in Shane's direction.

The truth is that Rick actually had begun dating. He was currently seeing someone, a woman he met through his job, for the past few months. It wasn't what he considered a love connection in any way, but she was nice and there were no strings or relationship commitments attached. She was a simple distraction, a place holder, but she was nice and that was enough for now. He certainly wasn't ready to introduce her to his son.

"Whatever," Shane said, "just sayin' you need to get back out there."

Carl had no desire to have this conversation with his dad and uncle, beyond what he'd already said, so he went back to his room with his soda.

"So, about the case…" Rick said in an effort to change the conversation, "if ya'll are meeting tomorrow, you know you can crash here tonight so you don't have to go all the way back to King County." He offered.

"Thanks, I appreciate that." Shane said while reaching for the TV remote.

"You know, if you don't have any powwow's scheduled with any of your little rugrats, you should join us in the meeting…you know as much about the Stookey case as me…I know you're above all that investigation stuff like the rest of us grunts, but maybe you can fit us into your busy schedule; hang with the little guys again." Shane chuckled in Rick's direction.

"Well, I actually just enrolled our final participant for the upcoming session and we don't start for another few weeks, -he glared back at his friend- so I'd be happy to be a silent observer in your little meeting." Rick said with a guffaw.

oooooo

She woke up, immersed in near darkness; disorientation quickly gave way to clarity of where she was and the realization of everything that had recently happened. A little light illuminated from the cable box on the wall by her television. It was 2:00 in the morning. She looked over and saw Michonne sleeping next to her. Her baby girl…sleeping so soundly. She was always such a good sleeper, even when she was an infant.

Patricia hastened to get out of the bed quietly; she didn't want to disturb her baby girl. She walked over to her night stand and felt around for her phone, then quietly exited her room. She and Michonne hadn't spoken about the day's events, they avoided any and all serious conversation; electing to watch a series of cinema noir movies that they always enjoyed. Nothing like a good old black and white thriller she'd always say.

She entered her sitting room, which use to be a guest bedroom, and sat in her favorite Coris Wingback chair. The moon shined so bright in this, her most favorite room in the house. She sat and focused on the picture of her incredible grandbaby; he was around two years old when the picture was taken. The picture sat just above her thriving azalea. She couldn't help but smile and reflect on how she'd nurtured that azalea for over ten years; it's appropriate that her grandbaby's picture hangs right above it.

She took a deep sigh, and unlocked her phone. I know it's too late – there's no way I should call her this late. No one else would or could understand though…I have to talk to her. She scrolled through her contacts, stared at the name for just a moment, and then pressed it.

She took yet another deep breath and placed her hand over her face while she listened to the rings.

"Hello," Jacqui said groggily. "Trish, what's wrong?"

"Hey Jacqui," She said with tentative measure, "I'm so sorry to call you at this hour."

"What's going on? Is something wrong with Chonne…Andre?!" Jacqui asked, now fully awake with rising concern.

"They found Johnny earlier today. He-"

"What! Oh my God! What do you mean they found Johnny?" Jacqui exclaimed as she got out of her bed and stood -paused- as she realized she didn't know where she was going.

"He's…he's…I don't want her to hate me Jac. What if she hates me? What if she never forgives me?" Patricia said with panic…fear. She got out of her chair, walked to the window, and beheld the magnificence of the full moon. There was such quiet, such peace. In the midst of the rising storm that was soon to become her life, there was still this marvelous wonder of the moon.

There was silence on the line before Jacqui spoke.

"Trish," she said with all the calm she could muster, "we'll figure it out…go to the kitchen make some tea, I'll do the same…then we can talk."

ooooooo


	3. Chapter 3 - The Meeting

**Authors Note:** This is a very long chapter, so grab your cup of coffee or glass of wine :-)

Enjoy-

* * *

 **Chapter 3 - The Meeting**

"All of this is just…unbelievable," Mike said into the phone as he stepped outside into his backyard.

"I know," she said while waiting at a red light; she seemed to be hitting every red light this morning, "I'm still trying to process it all."

"How's Mom T—Does she seem OK?" He inquired, taking in the heat of the day.

"Honestly, I can't tell. She got up and made a big breakfast for me and Auntie Liv. I don't think any of us were actually hungry, but it…well, we couldn't tell her No." Michonne said, currently focusing more on weaving between the red Infinity and black minivan than she was on the conversation.

"Your mom is real good at ignoring stuff," he said, without adding the _like mother like daughter_ comment that they both knew was true.

"Yeah - I know. We didn't talk about any of it last night. But, I heard her talking on the phone early this morning. Not sure who she was talking to, but she ended the conversation when I walked into the kitchen. I figured it was Auntie Amy - I don't know. I've never been able to read her. It's like-like she's always had a private conversation going on in her head that she doesn't share with anyone, especially not me."

"Well…just give her time." He suggested before continuing.

"We need to talk to Andre about what's going on—more sooner than later. When I looked at my phone this morning there were three different news feeds about the—the body under the school. Your dad's name was mentioned in every story. Andre's still asleep, but when he gets up, he'll see them." He let out an exasperated sigh.

"I know," she paused realizing that Mike was getting as concerned as her. "I thought about that last night, but I didn't want to say anything until we were one hundred percent sure—hopefully this meeting will give us that."

"Damn it! I'm gonna be late!" She snapped to no one in particular as she stopped at another red light.

"You said the meeting was at eleven-you realize its twenty minutes to eleven right?" He quipped with a smirk that, though she couldn't see, she knew it was there. "You'll probably be there in about five minutes."

"Not the point Mike." She snapped. "Early is on time and-"

"On time is late-yeah I remember. Glad to know some things never change; just as anal as ever." He joked.

"Whatever." She said as she reached the 'block'. After a moment of hesitation she continued, "I think you should go on and tell Andre what's going on; that we're not sure yet, but after this meeting we'll know more. I'll swing by your place after the meeting."

"Okay." He said, "Is Carol meeting you there—or just the _Dream Team_?" He laughed.

"Carol should be there…and Dixon," she said, "the others emailed me the information they gathered, so I'll just catch up with them later today."

"Breathe Chonne'…you got this," he said sensing her growing anxiety.

"Thanks. Talk to you later."

oooooo

Traffic near the Atlanta Police Department's Annex Building was as unencumbered as usual _thank goodness_. Every time she had to go to that part of town for something related to a client, she regularly joked that the light traffic is because most people generally try to avoid the 'block'; every building had something to do with law enforcement.

Michonne pulled into the parking lot, noticing immediately that a good portion of the lot was closed off due to some type of construction. It took longer to find a spot than usual. Once parked she took a deep breath; honest realization that _this_ is real. She pulled down her visor, took a look in the mirror, touched up her lipstick, and tucked one of her stray locs behind her ear – _you look good…time to engage_.

She grabbed her folders and stuck them inside of her briefcase. The officers would undoubtedly have some of the information, but not all of it. Upon exiting her car she looked over towards the entrance of the building—she stopped dead in her tracks. _There they were_. They were all there.

The _Lipstick Dream Team_ \- Maggie with her warm smile and beautiful face; dark tresses that was much shorter than when they were in college, beaming green eyes that Michonne was sure she could see even at this distance; Sasha with her beautiful caramel complexion and all her thick coyly hair, _the color of ravens wings_ …which was pulled up into a bun-Sasha's way of saying _'Don't mess with me because I mean business'_ ; Tara with her power pants suit and look of determination wrapped up in a sweet warm smile; Rosita, who no matter how tough she tried to look, always looked simply beautiful-with a figure that could give any video vixen a run for her money.

Carol - _boss and friend_ \- with her short hair of intermixed gray and cinnamon; the color mad her look much older than her actual age. One could easily get lost in the warmth her slightly grey eyes. People would look at her and think that she was timid and unsure of herself, which was wrong. The saying 'Don't let the smooth taste fool you' was probably coined in relation to her.

Glenn was there. Even though he was now in his early 30's he still had a boyish look; the same look that he had all those years ago when they first met. Glenn was in his first year of law school now, and performed his paralegal duties solely on a part-time basis while shadowing Carol.

Though Michonne knew that Daryl would be there, it was still quite comforting to see him. He had on the same blue jeans, dark t-shirt and weird vest with angel wings- _on the back_ -which he usually wore. He was about two months overdue for a shave, and his long black unkempt hair looked like it had been tended to with something grease related.

As she took them in, the sight of her colleagues, who were so much more than colleagues - _her heart pounded_. The warmth that she felt was almost overwhelming. _I can't allow myself to get all sentimental right now…not now._

She waved over at them…"Well, fancy meeting you guys here!" She shouted over to them. They laughed, waved back and resumed their current discussion.

Without a word or pomp, Daryl broke from the group and began walking in Michonne's direction. The others took notice but remained where they were, acting as if they weren't watching him. Michonne walked towards him, smiling. Daryl was the least affectionate person she'd ever met; so she knew that the chance of him saying or doing anything too sentimental was pretty slim. The suppressed emotions she had were just below the surface, and one good hug would assuredly cause those emotions to erupt like the most well known volcano.

He walked up to her…

"Thanks for dressing for the occasion;" she said as they came into closer contact, "you really shouldn't-"

Before she could finish her banter -within a flash- he grabbed and held her. She was in his arms. She had never been that close to him before. She instantly recognized the scent of cigarettes and old spice, two of her least favorite smells; at least until that very moment. It was a hug that lasted no more than a few seconds. Before she could even raise her arms to reciprocate the hug, it was over. He broke the embrace, slightly smiled, grunted something unintelligible and proceeded to turn around.

 _I just saw the guys out there for the private investigator job. What's up with the red neck? Why in the world is he here? He must realize that most of our clients are black and brown. "You know you're wrong right?" Whatever Rosie. Living here in Georgia I've seen guys like him my whole life. They may not say the "N" word, or call you some derogatory word for a woman to your face, but you know they're thinking it, and they probably say it when you walk away. "You're being just as bad as all the puta's out there that look at us and decide our talent and worth based solely on how we look." Fine, but if Bob Ewell over there even looks at me or our clients cross, He's Out. "Who's Bob Ewell—I think that guy's name is Daryl." Did you ever read_ _To Kill a Mockingbird_ _? "No." Well—that's a conversation for another time. That guy just better watch it…_

Michonne quickly gathered herself and hurried to catch up with her sullen companion. She quickly got in step with him as they began to walk towards their co-workers.

"What?" He mumbled looking at her in a dismissive quandary. "You're late." He said as he hastened his pace.

"So, I guess you do like me after all." She glanced over at him with a smirk as she lightly bumped his shoulder.

"Whatever…Shut up." He grumbled without looking at her.

"You like me…you reeaallly like me." She said channeling her best Sally Field.

"You're a jackass." He mumbled. "Oh, and keep your distance from Maggie cuz' the only thing she wants to do is give you a hug," he warned as he looked at her and frowned. "I know you don't go in for that kind of stuff." The irony of statement was not lost on either of them. They both laughed as they walked towards their friends.

As they reach the group she knew Daryl was right; she needed to steer clear of Maggie—she was a hugger. The others were not natural huggers, with the exception of Rosita when she was drunk. When Rosita was drunk she hugged everyone and she didn't particularly care if they were living or inanimate objects. She was never able to live down the light-post incident.

oooooo

"Thanks for the last minute invite to the meeting Ford," Andrea Harrison said sarcastically to Abe as she sat her papers on the conference table.

"You can keep the attitude Harrison. We just set the meeting up yesterday and we sure as shit didn't know the DA would need to have his hands all up in this fucker so soon." Abe said as he glared at the Assistant District Attorney. "I mean-I don't have any idea why you need to be here." He finished as he headed over to the coffee pot.

"You know as well as I do that this is gonna be a huge case that everyone in the state…Hell, probably the country, is gonna be paying attention to. And we need to make sure that it's obvious from the outset that we are happy to work with the family."

"Okay kids, let's all just play nice," Shane said with a grin as he looked over at his two associates.

Both Shane and Rick were seated at the conference table reviewing the coroner reports that they'd received earlier that morning. They were also looking over the old notes from the detective that worked on the Robert Stookey case all those years ago.

"Grimes…I wasn't expecting to see you here." Andrea glanced over at Rick.

"Yeah," Rick said as he ran his hand over the stubble on his face "I'm just here as a silent observer. The Stookey case was one that all of us had to learn in the Academy. And-by extension, we studied the Anthony disappearance. Lots of speculation flyin' around back then. Probably gonna be just as much now." Rick theorized as he took a sip of his coffee. "Oh, and it's nice to see too Andrea." Rick said sarcastically.

"Sorry Rick." she said apologetically as she took her seat. "It's good to see you. How's everything going over there with the kids?" She asked eyeballing him.

"It's good-I'm happy with the program. I think it's gonna make a big difference with these kids that don't fit in all that well with the other kids." He said thinking about his latest enrollee.

"How's Carl? I haven't seen him in a couple of years." She asked with seemingly genuine interest.

"He's a good kid; almost as tall as me." Rick said with a little chuckle.

"Not to change the subject," Abe said as he walked from the mini kitchen nook over to the table, "Harrison, what do you know about this Michonne Ridoux? I know you've gone up against her in court before…figure that's one of the reasons that the DA picked you to attend this little soirée." Abe said with his continuing annoyance.

"Michonne Ridoux?" Rick said with sudden recognition, "Michonne Ridoux is the daughter?" Rick asked to no one in particular.

"Yeah," Shane spoke first. "Why, you know her?" He asked with a slight raise of his eyebrow.

"No…not exactly. I've talked to her on the phone. Her son is the kid that I enrolled in the program yesterday."

The sudden and quiet recognition that _it really is a small world_ hung in the air.

"Well," Andrea spoke directly to Abe "Yes, I have worked on cases with Michonne. All I can tell you is that she's about the most…tenacious attorney that I or any of my colleagues have come across. She's a real bleeding heart and trust me, she doesn't go away easily." She said as she reached for her cup. "And, as for the DA having me come because of my previous interaction with her…you don't know what you're talking about Ford. Michonne, and her firm, have come up against every ADA in our office." She said glaring back at Abe.

"I wasn't tryin' to offend you Harrison." Abe said with a small smile.

"Whatever Ford." she deadpanned.

Just then, the conference door opened.

"Excuse me," the petit blonde receptionist said as she entered the room, "they're here. Um…theirs… eight of them," she said with an apologetic shrug. "It might be best to move to the bigger conference room upstairs." She informed them.

Abe looked over to his companions with an _I told you so_ look on his face as they gathered their coffee cups to headed to the larger conference room upstairs.

oooooo

The Atlanta Police Department Annex Building was probably one the oldest in Atlanta. A few years earlier the city invested a few million dollars in bringing the building into the new millennium; Wi-Fi, state of the art elevators, updated heating and air-conditioning system, new paint, new furniture, updated intercom system, etc. Money for the project eventually ran out before the project was completed. The part of the building that saw no new updates or amenities was a very small section of the Annex Building; that section is where the meeting regarding Johnny Anthony would now be held.

Michonne and her associates from _Blake, Pelletier and Brooks_ entered the conference room. The humidity in the room hit them all instantly; the window air conditioners, which had only just been turned on, were doing very little to alleviate the discomfort in the room. At 11:00 in the morning it had already inched up to 85 degrees.

Michonne's eyes quickly drifted over to the two men she'd met the day before. She instantly recognized ADA Andrea Harrison – _no surprise that she's here_ \- standing next to a man in a sheriff's uniform; his back was turned as he appeared to be on the phone.

Abe, Shane and Andrea approached the group as they entered the room.

Shane stepped in front of his colleagues, hand extended to Michonne-

"Good morning Mrs. Ridoux." Shane said as they shook hands.

"Good morning Deputy Walsh. Thank you so much for meeting with us today." She said as she leaned over her shoulder indicating the _us._

Abe stepped forward, extending his hand as well, "Good Morning Mrs. Ridoux." he said, "we apologize for the room…the other room wouldn't accommodate this group size." He said with just a hint of ire as he glanced at the group of individuals behind her.

"It's no problem." She said, as a couple of her associates cleared their throats, somewhat loudly, to indicate that she was not speaking for everyone in regards to their current accommodations.

"My colleagues and I work very closely, so we thought it best that we all start off on the same page; no chance of confusion later." She proffered.

"Nice to see you again Michonne…though I'm sorry about the circumstances," Andrea said as she moved next to Shane.

"Hi Andrea, it's nice to see you as well," she said as they shook hands, "and I believe you know pretty much everyone here." Michonne said as she stepped aside giving her team a chance to greet the ADA.

Rick ended his call with his assistant. He turned around to see introductions being made. He immediately took note that all of the women were attractive. As he scanned the group and saw _her_. The woman speaking with Abe was without a doubt Michonne Ridoux; _her son definitely has her eyes. Shane said she's cute…but she's actually beautiful...the blue pencil skirt and jacket that she's wearing shows every curve. He was certainly right about her body._

"You're Michonne Ridoux?" Rick asked as he approached her. She was facing Abe and two of her colleagues.

Michonne turned around, slightly confused as she took in the man before her. _Wow, he's attractive. Those eyes…have I ever seen that color blue? The slightly curly dark hair; just a hint of stubble on his chin, and the eyes…_

"Yes I am," she managed to say.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Deputy Rick Grimes—we spoke on the phone a few times." He stopped and chuckled just a little before continuing, "I had the pleasure of meeting with your husband and your son yesterday as you know. That's quite a young man you have-and your husband seems like a real good man." He said.

"Yeah, Andre is something all right," she said with a little giggle, "and Mike is my ex-husband, but thank you. He is a good guy." She cleared her throat, put one of her stray locs behind her ear and continued, "You're gonna have your hands full with Andre." She said with a little laugh.

"Yeah," Rick laughed awkwardly. "Smart young man, I'm looking forward to working with him…and your family." He said, eyes glued to hers.

"I'm...uh…sorry about all of this. About your loss," Rick said with sincerity.

"Thank you." She said.

"Okay! This room is hotter than Hell on a bad day…Let's get started." Abe announced to everyone.

oooooo

Everyone took their seats around the table and began pulling out their tablets, notebooks, folders and other equipage.

Shane stood, looked at both Abe and Andrea to silently convey that he was going to disclose information.

"Mrs. Ridoux, I'd like to start by saying that we have the reports back from the Medical Examiner," a palpable silence fell over the room while Shane opened the folder which sat on the table in front of him. He didn't glace down at the papers as he continued, "A positive match was made. The remains…body found at the school work site is Johnny Anthony."

He hesitated a few moments before continuing, "According to the M.E., death occurred due to the skull fracture—head injury, a subdural hematoma to be more specific. He appears to have been struck from behind with a heavy object—death was not instantaneous." He finished.

No one said anything; everyone's eyes in the room turned from Shane and focused on Michonne. Carol was the first to move as she pushed her chair back from the table, about to stand, when Michonne indicated with her hand not to.

Michonne looked around the room; looked into the sorrowful eyes of not just the friends that she'd known for several years, but also the eyes of people that she barely knew. Eyes that she'd seen since she was seven years old; _she was so tired of those damn eyes! No, not this time…._

"Look," she pushed her chair back from the table and stood up, "before we get started I just want to say a few things - _deep breath, focus_ \- I don't need anybody to handle me with kid gloves. Yes he was my father-I don't have a lot of memories of him, but I remember feeling loved. I know that he loved me, of that I truly have no doubt." She stopped and looked over at Daryl. His sullen and stoic expression would be her beacon of calm.

"I don't know how to say this without sounding unfeeling - _deep breath_ -, but finding his body-finally puts a period where that lingering comma has been all these years-it's a blessing." She said as the only other sound in the room, at the moment, was the buzzing of the air-conditioners.

She looked down at her hands, away from the beacon, which she knew was a mistake…

"When you're seven years old and your father disappears you think he left you because you did something wrong. I spent a good portion of my childhood thinking that he abandoned me. Doesn't really matter what good meaning family members tell you, the thought is still there. I don't know if it made me a stronger person or weaker person—but it makes a big difference to me knowing that he didn't leave me on purpose…" she halted for a few seconds before continuing.

"I've encountered lots of whispers throughout my life. Adults may whisper quietly, but I can assure that children don't-and to finally know that he didn't abandon me and my mom-that means everything."

She stopped and looked back at Daryl. _The tears were on their way_. _She could feel the warm stinging behind her lids…Damn it!_ She grabbed for her coffee, hands shaking slightly. Before she could take a sip, Carol was standing behind her; she was smiling, nodding at her to continue. _You got this babe…_

"My mom…uhh…I think she's been holding her breath for thirty years…I don't think she ever truly moved on. And now after all these years she can finally put him to rest. We can actually bury him and not spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders and wondering if he'll come back…" Carol squeezed her shoulder and smiled with those warm eyes.

"Patricia Anthony, my mother, has retained me as her attorney," she continued, "and as such, she will not be speaking to anyone without me present. I have a copy of her original statement, which I'm sure you already have…"

That was it. Michonne knew that she couldn't speak anymore, not right now. _They_ knew it too.

"So…" Sasha jumped in, "though the investigation appeared to be complete, there were actually areas that weren't thoroughly researched." She said, standing and reaching for Michonne's files. Carol handed her the files as Michonne took her seat, momentarily spent.

"First of all," Sasha continued, "we have put together a timeline of Mr. Anthony's final day based on all the witness statements that were taken thirty years ago."

Abe raised his pen, indicating that he had something to say, but was quickly shut down by Sasha...

"We know that the A.P.D has a timeline, however, we believe that ours may be a little more detailed."

She handed a copy of their report to both Abe and Shane.

"About ten years ago, Michonne and I began looking into her father's disappearance. There were some people that were more willing to talk with us than they were to the police…especially since it had been so long." She said looking over at her co-workers.

Andrea, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, took the momentary break in Sasha's enumeration to speak.

"Though we appreciate all the work that you've put into this case," she said focusing directly on Sasha, "it _is_ being handled by both the A.P.D and the Sheriff's Department. Anytime private citizens begin doing police work, it becomes a recipe for disaster…especially when it comes-"

"Look Andrea," Michonne interrupted, having recovered from her contemplation, "I understand your trepidation, I really do. But I can assure you that you will not get rid of me or us – _she looked over at her team_ \- so I suggest we work together…I will not let this become some kind of political all know that this is something that can become a hot button on both sides of the political aisle, and I refuse to let my father become anyone's political pawn. I won't allow it." She looked around the divided room before continuing.

"All of the people that scream police cover up-won't do so if the police are working directly with Johnny Anthony's daughter. So, as I see it, this is a partnership that will work for both you and us." Michonne said looking directly at Andrea, before looking over at Abe.

"Plus," Rosita began, "as private citizens there are things that we can do; things that your hands are bound from doing."

"The law says if a private citizen obtains evidence in any way and hands it in, we can use it—but only if the police had _nothing_ to do with them getting it." Andrea interjected.

"That's right," Tara began, "and none of us, or Mr. Dixon over there, work for the DA or the A.P.D. We are private citizens; anything we turn over to the police and District Attorney's Office will be untainted." She stated.

"So that absolves both the DA's office and the police from any accusations of wrong doing." Carol finished.

Glenn, Sasha and Maggie had been in their own private discussion; held in very hushed tones. Glenn typed feverishly as they spoke. He then reached over to his personal printer, on the table directly in front of him and Sasha grabbed the paper.

"As you can see," Michonne broke the silence as she began flipping through the information that had been handed to the meeting attendees, "there are some inconsistencies that need to be addressed." She stated emphatically.

Silence fell over the room as all the participants began flipping through the papers in front of them.

"We reviewed all the statements that were taken thirty years ago from both my dad's disappearance and the Stookey case. We created a timeline and cross referenced both cases." She took a breath before continuing, "As you can see, ten years ago, Sasha and I went through all the original statements, and re-interviewed most of the individuals that gave those statements. We noticed some things that seemed…odd, but at the time we didn't give it much thought. Now that we know my father probably died the night he went missing, those inconsistencies are more than just odd...they're suspicious. And now, we have the added factor of the school work site from thirty years ago. It seems like too much of a coincidence that my father was representing a teacher who was suing both the school district and principal; the principal of the same school where his body was found, I might add."

Sasha walked over to Michonne, whispered something in her ear then handed her a single sheet of paper. Everyone observed the interaction but continued reviewing the information being discussed.

Michonne glanced at the paper that had just been handed to her by her friend and co-worker, and then pressed on….

"I reviewed my father's notes regarding the Stookey case several years ago-I intend to go over them again with my colleagues to see if there's anything new that we can glean from them."

She continued, "I don't know if there is a connection between my father's murder and Robert Stookey's suicide. That's one of the things that my team and I will be checking into. I'm sure that's why the sheriff's department is involved. There are those that will make this about race, and there are those that will fight equally as hard to say it has nothing to do with race. I just want the truth. I'm not gonna let this be used as a means dividing the city any further." Michonne paused while looking around the room at its occupants; they were all keenly focused on her.

She grabbed her coffee and took another drink before proceeding, "We have compiled a list of people who we believe need to be re-interviewed, as well as those that were never interviewed. My colleagues looked into city permit requests, the school work site from thirty years ago, the Stookey case and other elements of both cases. This is the quick list that we've come up with." She handed the newly acquired paper to Abe.

The names on the list are as follows (alphabetical): Gabriel Church, Founder and Director of the ATL Community Center; Merle Deets, security officer of the NaKo Office Building -where Mr. Anthony worked; Neil Gannon, Foreman of the construction crew working at the school site thirty years ago -now owner of the Gannon Construction Co.; Arat Jarrod, Johnny Anthony's secretary; Cesar Martinez, Principal of Vail High School -now School Board President; Jadis Palesky, Director of Human Resources for the School District thirty years ago -now retired; Barbara Stookey, Robert Stookey's wife; Garreth Tracker, co-worker - _former teacher_ \- of Mr. Stookey -now General Manager of The Grocery Outlet located in downtown Atlanta; Milton Woods, Mr. Anthony's colleague and co-counsel.

The room finally cooled down enough for everyone to get a little relief; jackets had been removed some time back. The group listened intently while scrutinizing all the documents in front of them. They continued to review all of the available reports. Abe and Andrea's initial contention seemed to dissipate… _somewhat_ , as time went on. After forty minutes of back and forth discussions they decided to take a break.

oooooo

"So what do ya'll think of all this?" Shane asked as he, Andrea, Abe and Rick congregated slightly away from the table as everyone broke up into smaller groups.

"I don't know." Andrea responded "It doesn't seem like we have much of a choice when it comes to working with them. But-you guys need to work closely with them so we will be aware of whatever it is they come up with."

"We don't need a bunch of lawyers and some backwater hick PI doin' our job." Abe grumbled, "this whole thing ain't right." He finished with a final sip from his now lukewarm coffee.

"They seem to wanna work with us. This don't feel like no kind of vigilante shit. Seems like we want the same thang." Shane offered looking into the face of his frustrated partner.

"Maybe you're right," Abe answered "don't mean I gotta like it."

Rick stayed true to his word and remained a silent participant. He reviewed the information along with everyone else, but remained silent…introspective. He glanced over and noticed Michonne momentarily by herself as she headed over to the trash can in the corner.

ooooooo

Rick approached Michonne.

"Hey again." He said with a smile. "Seems like you're really good at what you do…very impressive"

"Thank you…I appreciate that." She said with a slight grin- _God he looks good.._. _and that scent_ , _what is that?_

"I know you have a lot of things going on right now, but…well…we have a camping trip coming up in the next few weeks; when the program starts. We use that time for all of the participants to get to know each other, and from my brief conversation with Andre, it's pretty clear that camping is probably not on his list of things he'd like to do." He chuckled; she nodded in agreement with a quiet laugh.

"I'm hoping that we can…uh…work together to convince him to come on the trip. It's not a requirement of the program so he has to agree to go." He said.

"Well, you're right about camping not being his thing. Andre is a lot like his father in that way. Neither of them is much for the outdoors." She laughed.

"What about you?" He asked mid chuckle.

"Believe it or not, I use to be quite the outdoors girl. My aunt and uncle would take my cousins and me to Yellowstone Park every year until we hit high school—once we got to high school I think they figured we were a little too cool for camping." She fidgeted with her necklace as she beamed with the sudden memory.

"Parents are welcome to come," he smiled as he tried not to stare- _most incredible smile I've ever seen._

"Oh, I don't think so," she giggled as she pushed a loc behind her ear and adjusted her skirt.

"Sounds like I have three weeks to change your mind," he said in a flirty way…definitely unaware of the flirting.

oooooo

Tara approached Rosita, Sasha and Maggie who were in the midst of a little huddle.

"Hey," Tara interrupted, "Is it just me or is she flirting with that deputy?" She asked while discretely glancing over at Rick and Michonne.

"Yeah, I think we all can see that." Sasha said while also glancing in the direction of the two in question.

"Look," Maggie interjected, "I don't think this is the right time for us to even be discussing this." She said in an almost whisper.

"No, I think it's exactly the right time," Tara said firmly.

"I'm going to say what all of us are thinking, - _she looked at her friends_ \- we're here for Michonne because we love her- but I don't believe that any of us really think that _this_ will have the kind of ending that she's hoping for-and when this is all over, I don't want her to be all alone-she's been alone for too long." She stopped while her friends took in her words. "Maybe Officer friendly over there is exactly what she needs."

"You're right Tara." Rosita interjected, "I haven't seen her show real interest in anybody for years—until now."

"She's fidgeting like she's in middle school. It's freakin' embarrassing. Hopefully the deputy isn't picking up on it. Might make her seem desperate-or pathetic. Not sure which is worse." Sasha added while again perusing the scene happening only about twenty five feet away from them.

"I didn't think she was into white guys…and definitely not cops." Rosita whispered.

"Who knows who she's into? Does she even have a type? When's the last time she even went on a date?" Sasha added

"I think the last time was probably when she hooked up with Mike-" Maggie said before she could stop herself, realizing that she'd said too much.

"What!" Rosita exclaimed.

"Shhh," Maggie interjected, "keep your voice down."

"What the hell Mags," Sasha said, "when did that happen…and why are you the only one that knows?" she asked, looking sternly at Maggie.

"Never mind." Maggie deadpanned.

"Nope, no never minds….Spill." Rosita urged.

Maggie took a deep breath and whispered, "It was right after the divorce…and she only fessed' up cuz I overheard a conversation she was havin' with Mike."

The women looked amongst each other with smirks on their faces.

"That doesn't even matter." Rosita exclaimed, "A secret hook-up with your ex isn't the same as dating."

"Whatever...can you just go over there and pull her out of that conversation Rosie. She's giggling, and he's staring at her like he's never seen a woman before-It's pathetic." Sasha said with both a smile and grimace, "and what the Hell's up with the cowboy boots?"

"That _is_ one fine man though," Maggie added, eyebrows raised, "do we know anything about him?" She asked as they all looked around at each other.

"No," Tara said "Maybe we can have Dixon do a quick check on him."

"What the hell Tara. You wanna investigate a sheriff's deputy?" Maggie whispered with surprise.

"Nothing in depth, just some basic stuff," Tara added, "I just think…well…she's always looking out for us, for her family…Hell, everybody. I just wanna make sure we look out for her. And clearly she likes that guy."

No one spoke as they looked back over at Rick and Michonne.

"Damn it, let's get over there before they start passing notes in gym class," Sasha sarcastically whispered.

They all began to walk in the direction of their friend and her new crush; then they observed Carol walking away from Daryl and Glenn, heading in the same direction.

oooooo

Carol approached Rick and Michonne with a slight clearing of her throat, and smile on her face.

"Excuse me." Carol said as she approached.

"Deputy Grimes. I don't think we've officially met, I'm Carol Pelletier." She said while extending her hand.

"No, we didn't officially meet. Your reputation precedes you Mrs. Pelletier. It's a pleasure." He said while shaking her hand.

"Could I have just a moment with Michonne?" She asked while smiling at Rick.

"Sure." He said with a nod as he walked back in the direction of his colleagues.

Carol turned to Michonne as the deputy walked away.

"How you are doin' sweetie?" She asked while reaching over to quickly squeeze her shoulder.

"I'm Okay." Michonne said with just a touch of sadness as she quickly returned to reality.

"We need to sit down and talk…but not here," she looked around in the room, "it's still too damn hot in this room."

"About?" She looked at Carol inquisitively; she'd known her for many years and was sure she had something to say.

"I noticed that when we went through all of the information, we went over everything except the discussion about your parent's marriage—to put it bluntly, was your dad involved with anybody else—was he having an affair." Carol whispered plainly.

That was not a question that Michonne had ignored all those years ago when she and Sasha first began looking into her father's disappearance. But there was never any evidence of an affair. Even though there were some inconsistencies in her mom's statement—she would never - _Not Ever_ \- put Patricia Anthony on that list.

"You saw the witness statements just like I did." Michonne said quietly, "there were statements in there from family members, co-workers, community members, and so on. There's even a statement from the guy that sold newspapers in front of my dad's building-and no one ever saw my parents in anything but a loving marriage. They never even argued. There was no evidence of infidelity…Nothing. So that's not something we need to look into." She finished, looking at Carol with a new sense of credulity.

"Come on sweetie…you and I both know…we've both been married, and we know that there are three sides to every marriage," She turned to look directly into her younger protégés face, "there's a side that strangers see; there's one that our closest friends and family see; and then there is the reality of what actually exist inside of the marriage." Carol paused and took in the growing acrimony on Michonne's face.

"Your mom is the only one that knows what truly went on in their marriage. Things that she may have never even shared with your aunt or her closest friends. You need to have that uncomfortable conversation with your mother. We have to know if there was another woman….No one in this room is going to say it to you, so I am." Carol lightly touched Michonne's face.

Michonne took in a deep breath, "I've never talked about those kinds of things with my mom." She sighed and touched her necklace.

"I don't think we've ever even had a conversation about sex-my entire life. I always talked to my aunt about those kinds of things. Maybe I'll talk to my Auntie Liv first." She looked over to the rest of her colleagues who were all standing near the door, "Maybe I'll talk to my aunt Amy…she and mom have been friends their entire lives. I imagine there are probably things that she's told her that she never told Auntie Liv." Michonne finished.

"We can't get the truth and not ask the questions," Carol stared at Michonne, unwilling to let go of her point. "You want answers to what happened, but you don't want to ask the question…Oh sunshine, you can't have both," Carol said with a very slight smile. "You said you don't want to be treated with kid gloves -well, no kid gloves here. And you can't treat your mother like she's a kid either. She's a strong woman; took care of you and made you into the woman you are, so she can handle some tough questions….and you have to ask them. Ask her about her marriage—not other people."

Michonne knew that Carol was right, but she had no idea how to start the conversation.

"We have to know if this was some kind of lovers' quarrel or something along those lines-we don't need the media or police doing it and causing your mother more grief. I know it isn't going to be a comfortable conversation, but it's one that you need to have." Carol finished.

ooooooo

Rick rejoined his co-workers as they were still discussing how this new 'partnership' would work out. Andrea watched Rick approach and stepped over to him, out of the earshot of the other lawmen.

"So Grimes," she said as they came closer to each other, "how is everything going with Jessica?"

Rick looked at the pretty blonde with the determined demeanor, "What?" He inquired.

"Jessica." She repeated. "I've known her for a couple of years through Judge Jones; heard through the grapevine that you two were a couple." She looked at him with a smirk.

"We've been casually seeing each other," Rick said in a hushed tone, "but we're not a couple…not that it's any of your business miss ADA." He said with annoyance.

"Not sure she knows that." Andrea said with a slight upturned smile.

"What is that suppose to mean?" He said with a nod of his head.

"The only reason I know about you two is because she's told people Rick. According to her, you two are not just _seeing each other_." She said with quiet clarity in hopes that he could read between the lines – _can he really be this obtuse?_

She glanced over at Michonne and Carol before continuing, "seems like your attention might be elsewhere." She said with a plastic smile.

Rick shifted uncomfortably while also discreetly looking at Michonne before speaking, "still none of your business Andrea." He said emphatically.

"Let's finish this up!" Shane interrupted loudly.

Everyone made their way back to the table to finish the meeting. There was still a hint of contention in the air, but they all decided that working together could work, as long as boundaries were respected.

ooooooo

It had reached 94 degrees by the time the _Blake, Pelletier & Brooks_ team exited the Atlanta Police Department Annex Building. They were instantly hit with an overwhelming thrust of heat and humidity.

The ladies of the Lipstick Dream Team - _sans Michonne_ \- had quietly decided to have a discussion with their friend about Rick; at a later time—now was definitely not the time. The primary discussion as they endured the trek to their cars was centered on what their next move should be, when…

"Mrs. Ridoux!" resounded through the air.

The entire group turned in the direction of the high-pitched shout. They all witnessed Rick walking briskly towards them. Michonne turned to her friends letting them know that she would speak with them later. The group gave each other knowing looks as they bid her adieu.

The nervousness that she felt standing there - _butterflies-_ was something that she had not experienced in many years. Rick smiled and chuckled lightly as he approached her.

"Hey-I just wanted to let you know that I'd contact you regarding the camping," he said - _slightly out of breath-_

They were mere feet from each other. He couldn't help but notice how her dark skin glistened under the searing sun. The sweat on her skin gave it a certain sheen; he'd never taken note of something like that before. He put his hand up to his face to block the sun, and to hide his obvious stare.

"You clearly have a lot going on right now, but a short camping trip with a group of slightly rowdy boys and rugged parents might be exactly what you need." He joked, though he was being quite serious.

"I haven't gone camping in years." She laughed shaking her head.

"No time like the present. Plus, boys tend to get a kick out of having their moms on these trips—I think it has to do with them feeling like a protector." He said.

"Good luck with that," she smirked, "Andre might be an easier sell than me."

"Well-I have been known to be pretty persuasive, so this might just be a done deal," he continued, smile not leaving his face.

"Okay…well, you have my number…so"

"I do," he said reaching out to shake her hand, "I'll follow up with you soon. It was a pleasure meeting you." He let go of her hand.

"Okay Deputy."

"Please call me Rick."

"Only if you call me Michonne."

"Deal." They smiled and shook hands.

ooooooo

The meeting had lasted over two hours. All the participants had taken part in the - _at times-_

lively discussion; with the exception of Daryl Dixon who stayed silent throughout the two hours and quietly observed the ADA, officer and two deputies.

After Rick exited the building to speak with Michonne – Andrea, Shane and Abe stayed behind gathering up their newly acquired material.

"So what's your boss gonna say about all this?" Abe asked Andrea. "I mean, this ain't how the District Attorney's Office normally does things – It sure as shit ain't how we usually do things."

"Don't know," she answered. "I don't see that we have much of a choice—you guys just make sure that this doesn't turn into some kind of pedestrian investigation."

"This shit is a puzzle – not sure if it's gonna fit together as easily as they'd like it to." Shane said glancing out of the window at the team of attorneys.

"Yeah," Abe added staring at his companions, "there's a bunch of secrets that I don't think anybody really wants to uncover—even if they think they do."

The three stared out the window at Michonne as she spoke with Rick.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you so much for joining me on this journey. Please take a moment to tell me what you think of the chapter and the story.


	4. Chapter 4 -Difficult Conversations

**Chapter 4: Difficult Conversations**

" _Mom, I'm sorry—I didn't mean to upset you."_

This was uncharted territory. Patricia Anthony was the most even tempered woman one could ever have the pleasure of knowing. Her words were always charitable; no hint of anger or discontent. This reaction to a very simple and innocent statement was unexpected—to say the least.

" _I just didn't know that you two ever—well, that you were friends."_ Maybe that question—posed as a statement, just made the situation worse. Michonne was standing before the most stoically calm person she'd ever met; how did this go from 0 to 10 - _and rising-_ over something so seemingly benign.

oooo

As Michonne drove to Mike's house her mind was invaded by an onslaught of unsettling thoughts. The meeting had been—enlightening. This would not be an easy investigation. Her conversation with Carol made it clear that there were things she would need to address with her mother. How would she begin that conversation?

The animosity that she sensed coming from Abraham Ford and Andrea Harrison was to be expected, but still unsettling. How would they all be able to work together? Shane Walsh seemed to be okay, but she and her team would assuredly need to take measured steps along this journey. But her confusion—confusion that she hadn't experienced in years, was centered on Rick Grimes. He was not who she should be thinking about right now— _not now._

The closer she got to Mike's house, the heavier the weight of nervousness and fear got. The unbearable heat outside of her car didn't hinder the chills that had suddenly come over her - _How do you tell a child that his grandfather wasn't just missing, but had actually been murdered-_ What is the proper protocol? She was pretty sure that there weren't any books on _that_ particular subject; she had never seen the subject broached on Dr. Phil either.

Every teacher that young Mr. Andre Ridoux had, since he began school, both loved and dreaded his presence in their classroom. His inquisitive nature was un-shakable; never one to give up on any topic until he was completely satisfied with the answer. But, the conversation about his grandfather was not one he delved into. He never questioned the simple answers he'd been given. The younger Ridoux was not only inquisitive, he was also intuitive. His intuitive nature didn't benefit his teachers, but it was quite merciful to his mother and grandmother. His grandfather's disappearance was the proverbial elephant in the room his whole life. Intuitively, he knew the uncomfortable subject should be left alone; as time went on, the invisible elephant faded into the shadows with all the other unasked questions.

Walking to the door of Mike's condo was daunting. The blistering temperature was no match for the growth of searing anxiety she was experiencing; her heart pounded mercilessly. _Would this precocious child ask questions that she was too uncomfortable to deal with right now_? As she reached out to knock on the door her fears were quickly put to rest when her son—her very beautiful son—who had given her so much drama over the last several months, opened the door with a smile and a nod…"Are you okay mom? Dad told me—and it's gonna be okay," he said while he hugged her.

"Thank you baby." She said as she expelled the weighted breath she'd been holding. "Let's go inside and talk—then we'll all go over to your grandmother's house—I know she's waiting for us."

The drive to the Anthony home was very light. The three talked about the upcoming weekend, possibly going to the movies and relaxing. It almost felt—normal. All the fear and dread of having this very important conversation with her son had slipped into the background; the love and kindness shown to her by both Mike and Andre was at the forefront.

ooooo

Andre burst through his grandmothers door like he'd done since he moved from his pre-toddler 'Frankenstein' walk, to his own little toddler stroll. Every part of his grand mom Patricia's house belonged to him; just like at his grand mom Jacqui's house. Where some children had one home or maybe two, Andre Ridoux had four.

He wrapped his arms around his grandma's chest. He was now her height. He nuzzled his head on to her shoulder and rested his face on hers. Michonne and Mike watched as their son silently gave his unconditional support to the regal matriarch. She kissed him on his cheek and whispered something in his ear that his parents were not privy to. Without a word Andre headed to the kitchen.

"Hey mom," she said as she approached her mother, taking note that her mom had become quiet, reticent—not looking in hers or Mike's direction. Given the circumstances it made perfect sense, but it still felt odd.

"Hey mom T," Mike said also noticing his ex-mother-in-law's quietness. Patricia greeted them both as they each took turns giving her a hug. Mike had always been close to Patricia just as Michonne had always been close to Jacqui.

"I'm glad you guys finally made it—I was wondering where you were," she snapped. Instantly the air in the room became thick with unspoken division.

"I'm sorry it took us so long to get here mom—how are you?" she asked with a smile—in hopes of relaxing the older woman's apprehensive stance.

"I'm fine I was just waiting for you—how did the meeting go?" She asked while still not looking at her daughter of ex son-in-law.

Michonne began explaining the events of the meeting to her mother. Patricia listened as she gazed over to the kitchen. Michonne finished her quick diatribe stating that she and her co-workers would be working with the A.P.D., the District Attorney's Office and the King County Sheriff's Department.

"Oh," was all Patricia Anthony said, still not looking in the eyes of her daughter.

After speaking with Jacqui the previous night, Patricia had gained a new bravery, and this was the time that she needed to stand in this new truth.

"I had a conversation with Jacqui last night," Patricia began, pausing just long enough for Michonne to interrupt…

"You spoke to Mom Jacqui last night—I'm surprised I didn't-" before Michonne could finish her quandary, Patricia faced her daughter and snapped…

"Is there some rule that I can't speak to Jacqui?—and who are you to say who I can speak with and who I can't—I'm the mother, I'm not a child so don't tell me who I can and can't speak to." Patricia said loudly.

The current swirl of emotions she was having while standing in her foyer had sent her into a mini tailspin. She most assuredly considered her behavior to be undignified—but couldn't stop herself.

It happened instantly; the air was extracted from the room as Mike and Michonne both took a step back unable to focus on what just happened. Patricia Ridoux's unexpected outburst caused Andre to stop cutting himself a large piece of his grand mom's famous chocolate cake—he rushed towards the noise.

"Mom, I'm sorry—I didn't mean to upset you—I just didn't know that you two were friends." Michonne said calmly to the imposing woman in front of her—one that she barely recognized at the moment.

"Well you don't know everyone I'm friends with…so don't presume to." She again sniped.

Andre had made his way over to his grandmother and put his hand on her arm.

"I'm really sorry mom…I didn't mean anything by it. I shouldn't have assumed-"

Patricia interrupted, "You're damn right you shouldn't assume…you're a big-time lawyer, isn't that one of the first things they teach you in law school—not to make assumptions; to do your research and get facts before you assume anything." She stopped while harshly looking at her daughter. The silence permeated the room for what seemed to be an infinite amount of time. The harshness fell from Patricia's face and was replaced with regret.

Both Mike and Michonne were in recovery mode; neither really knew what to say. Before they could gather themselves, Patricia turned to her ex son-in-law, "Mike—Michonne and I are going into the sitting room, can you take Andre and go to the family room—there's cake in the kitchen, help yourself…"

She finished as she turned to her grandson and kissed his cheek. She walked over to Mike and brushed his cheek tenderly, then turned and walked towards her favorite room in the house. Michonne followed behind.

It was sweltering outside, but inside of the Anthony home it was nice and cool; the air conditioner was doing its job, but the walk from the front door to the sitting room felt like a heated death row march to Michonne. She was walking the _Green Mile,_ but unlike the many prisoners who have taken that walk, she didn't know what her crime was; her mom had apparently tried, convicted, and set the sentence before discussing her offense.

As they entered the room, Patricia's favorite room, Michonne took in how lovely the room really was. The rest of the house was always immaculate and beautiful, but the sitting room was special. It wasn't just that the furniture was antique cherry wood with cream colored fabric covering—it was its' warmth. The beautiful azalea and the few pictures that she had on the wall of family made the room feel like a home all on its own.

Michonne took her few death steps and sat across from the chair that was her mother's favorite. Her mom sat and stared at her daughter. The silence did not last long but it felt like an eternity.

Being a lawyer for as many years as Michonne, reading body language had become second nature. She read the body language of the guilty, the innocent, the witnesses, the judges, and the attorneys; she prided herself on her ability to read people. But, she was never able read her mother, until this very day. Her mother was racked with guilt. It was written all over her; it wasn't fear, it wasn't anger, it wasn't sadness—it was guilt.

Patricia looked away from her daughter as she stared at the wall behind her; pictures of her family, mostly Andre. Though there were pictures of her husband; it had been years since she'd taken the time to really look at them. The 8x10 picture of him holding Michonne was always her favorite.

Johnny Anthony was such a handsome man; he was tall with a slender build, short tapered hair and dark flawless skin. He always had a moustache –according to him, _all real men had to have some hair on their face_. He was a stunning man. She looked over at the wall; her growing plant and the picture her grandbaby-then back down at her hands.

She stared down at her hands. She twisted her wedding band—the wedding band that had been a resident of her ring finger for 40 years.

"I'm so sorry mom," Michonne interrupted the silence, "I didn't mean to upset you, I-"

"No, I'm sorry," Patricia interrupted, "I never should've snapped at you. You didn't do anything wrong honey," she said as she stood and walked over to her window—her little window to the world.

"It's okay—I mean there's a lot going on, you have every right…"

"—No," her mother interrupted again without turning from her view of the neighborhood,

"I don't have every right to anything." She stated emphatically.

This was it, this was the right time to let go of the lies and hidden truths.

"About twelve years ago, after Andre's first birthday party, Jacqui and I were cleaning up—you and Mike had taken the baby to the park," she continued, "Jacqui and I grabbed a couple of glasses of wine. I always thought she was a nice woman, but I think she and I felt a certain kind of jealousy—over Andre,"

She paused and laughed a little to herself, "it sounds weird, but sharing a grandbaby can be a tricky thing—anyway, we began to talk. She began to share some of the issues that she and Lawrence were having and it all began to feel so—familiar. We both had our own best friends, but in that moment it seemed easier to talk to each other than our closest friends. I mostly listened to her—I knew that I could never give her or _anyone_ advice on marriage." She paused as she thought about what she needed to tell her daughter. Still staring out the window, she continued...

"For the first time in nearly two decades, I let my guard down – _she took a deep breath_ —I shared some things with her that I'd never told anyone. As I talked, she looked at me with such kindness. There was no judgment—though I wouldn't've blamed her if she did judge me harshly - _she turned and faced her daughter_ \- but after my confession to her, I was never truly comfortable around her. A part of me always felt that she was judging me. I was embarrassed—which is why we've never become friends." She searched her daughters face for her thoughts; there was only confusion on her lovely face.

"Mom—what did you confess?"

"It was about your father." Her daughters' expression changed from confusion to something akin to disbelief.

"What did you confess mom?" Michonne asked, though not prepared for the answer.

"I told her about a man—a man that I was interested in right before Johnny disappeared." She said.

Patricia was facing the window, looking out at the street; she couldn't bear to look at her daughters' eyes as she confessed her deepest and darkest secret. She definitely could not look into the eyes of _the_ _lawyer_.

She stared at the street in front of her house, looking at the cars of her neighbors—neighbors that she'd known for years. Neighbors that were just coming home from work completely unaware that in the house which sat in the middle of the block, with the beautiful green lawn and brown shudders, had a woman living there who had been untruthful and nearly unfaithful to her husband.

"I was so young when I married your father. I loved him with all my heart, but as time went on I just became a regimented wife...who later became a discontented mother—I didn't know what to do. For one very brief moment I forgot who I was," she paused for a moment as she watched her neighbor Mrs. Meyer walk by with her dog.

" _He_ was nice and he paid attention to me. Your father was working on that stupid case every day and every night and you had your friends and your sleepovers and I was just really lonely." She said in one long breath.

"I didn't have an affair with him—I need you to know that. But—it was inappropriate, and we did kiss. I felt so guilty. Later I confessed to your father. He just stared at me… and it's a look that I'll never forget… it wasn't anger…it was hurt, and he never said anything..." she continued as she twisted her long adorned wedding ring.

"But the night that he disappeared—was a good night. He hadn't really talked to me after my confession, but that night—that night was good. He came home and kissed me. He said that everything would be okay; that he would be spending more time with me and with you, and that he had figured something out. He was in such a good mood."

There it was. The conflicting information that her mother had given all those years ago; she told the detectives that initially interviewed her about her missing husband that he was happy and unbothered at the time of his disappearance. Later, she told the detectives that her husband was bothered about something, but she wasn't sure what it was, and he seemed distracted. Then, when she did her first televised interview, she told the reporter that her husband was working hard on the Stookey case and she was sure that his disappearance had something to do with the case.

Michonne knew that it was her mom's statements in her first televised interview that set the city on edge. It was after the interview that all the conspiracy theories started.

"Please forgive me for all the lies—I didn't want anyone to know about what I did." She implored her daughter as she saw a glimmer of antipathy flash across her little girls face.

"Please forgive me for never telling the complete truth about what was going on with me and Johnny. It was just… such a bad time for me. Johnny was gone—all I really had was you…and I couldn't bear for you to know what I did." Patricia said in a hushed tone.

"Please," she implored, finally turned and facing her daughter. Michonne didn't speak. Patricia could see the wheels turning in her daughter's brain. Her eyes were focused on some distant place far beyond the walls of the room.

Patricia continued… "I never wanted to talk to you about boys or men or anything like that because I always felt too guilty about what I did. It felt right that your aunt talked to you about relationships and things along that line. I knew I hadn't earned it—I decided to be the best mom and grand mom that I could be—it's the least that I could do for Johnny." For the second time in two days tears rolled down her face. Michonne was looking away from her; with newly formed visible frown lines…

" I've never forgiven myself—for a long time I thought that Johnny left because of what I did—but I knew that he'd never leave you - _she smiled at her daughter_ \- your dad loved you more than anything. I eventually figured that something—sinister had happened to him. Everyone kept saying that it had something to do with the case and that it was probably racially motivated, so I allowed myself to believe that."

Michonne could barely breathe. She thought she might hyperventilate. She took a deep breath in an attempt to not just calm herself but to relax enough to have this conversation.

"Who was it Mom?" Michonne quietly asked.

"No one truly understands a human heart," Patricia continued, ignoring her daughter's question, "it can be as strong as any African diamond while also as weak as watered down tea. I don't even know if we understand our own heart or our capacity to love and forgive. I know that I truly loved your father, and I believe that he truly loved Me." she said.

"Who was it mom?" Michonne repeated.

"It doesn't matter," she said, no longer looking in her daughters face, "it doesn't matter who it was—nothing else happened and I'd rather not think about it."

Michonne stood and walked over to her mother. She touched her shoulder as calmly as she could, to not startle her. She lightly touched her with her other hand in an attempt to turn her mother's body towards her.

"Mom, I need you to listen to me now, this information is incredibly important. Maybe this man, whoever he is, didn't have anything to do with dad's death— but we have to know who he is. You have to tell me." She said.

"He would never have hurt your father. I don't know if your father confronted him, but he was not the kind of person who would hurt anyone…he was actually very meek and quiet.

"Who was it Mom?" Michonne's determination not wavering.

Patricia looked at her daughter and simply said, "Milton Woods."

Milton Woods was one of Johnny Anthony's co-workers. He was also the co-counsel for on the Stookey case. He and Johnny had worked together for five years before his disappearance. The two men were never close friends, but they were friends - _at least Johnny Anthony thought they were_ \- Milton Woods was on the list that Michonne's team had given to their new 'partners' because of inconsistencies he'd given regarding his whereabouts when Johnny Anthony went missing.

"Mom, we need to talk about where you were the night dad went missing. There were inconsistencies in what you told the detective and what you later told that reporter—it was subtle, but it was—inconsistent."

"Do you think I had something to do with your father's death—how could you ever think that?"

"I don't—I just need to know the truth," she replied to her mother with honest empathy.

She continued, "…we'll sit down and you can give me your statement…okay."

Patricia smiled as she saw the warmth now radiating from her child.

"Your father was such a good man. He was truly a good guy. It would've been so much easier if he'd been a cheater or some kind of a jerk—but, he wasn't. He was very idealistic, very honorable, and very loyal." She smiled at the thought of her husband. "You're so much like him." She said.

The heavy layer of anxiety that had been ever-present in the sitting room had dissipated. Patricia had finally—finally after thirty years in her self-imposed prison, been released. It was mind-blowing. She knew that there would be things that she'd have to deal with and that she would now give a more truthful statement…but it didn't matter; the truth had already set her free.

"I just feel so bad-" Michonne said.

Patricia interrupted, "I know baby and I'm so sorry."

"No mom, I feel bad for you—I feel bad that you—you spent all those years wrapped up in guilt. You were never able to really enjoy your life. I feel so bad that you never had a chance to spend time with anyone else. That you never let another man into your life; you don't need me to forgive you…you just need to forgive yourself."

She took her mom's hand and kissed it. She saw the uncertainty on the face of the person who was the first true love of her life. "I'll have Maggie draw up the papers to have daddy officially declared dead—and Mike, Auntie Liv and I, will sit with you and plan his memorial service." She said with a small smile.

"Mom—do you remember what you would tell me when I was frustrated?" She gingerly rubbed her mothers shoulder. "Today is the tomorrow you talked about yesterday." She stopped to give her mother the opportunity to take in her own words. "This is your today."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The drive to King County from Atlanta was never more than a couple of hours. Rick routinely drove Carl to his mothers on Friday nights so that Lori could have her son for a full two days. But, Carl had plans with his friends Friday night, so here they are; driving to their old home town early Saturday morning.

Rick usually enjoyed the drive to his ex-wife's because it was a time that he could just sit and talk with his son. Between work, school, and Carl's preoccupation with gadgets and social media, they really only had this drive to talk.

Today was different. Today was somber. Today was _that_ day. It was summer time and Carl spent the summers with his mother; a growing point of contention between father and son for the past few weeks.

Carl loved his mom. _She was his mom after all_ , but his life -which primarily consisted of his friends- was now in Atlanta. _It's not fair that I have to spend the whole summer away from my friends and my life._ Hurting his mom's feelings was never something he wanted to do, but he didn't know how to be truthful without it sounding mean _to her._

Rick and Lori had worked out somewhat of a compromise with the unhappy teen; he could spend a few weekends during the summer at _home_ in Atlanta, and he could also go on the camping trip with his father. The agreement didn't completely assuage Carl's misery, but he was giving his father the silent treatment a little less lately.

"You're gonna be really bored without me," Carl said to his father as he perused the passing Georgia scenery. The beauty of the Georgia landscape before him was one that even a teenage cynic could appreciate; a view that both amateur and seasoned photographers would happily capture – a landscape that artists would drool for.

"You _are_ right about that," Rick said, glancing over at his son. It had not gone unnoticed to him that his son seemed a lot more introspective lately. The two had always enjoyed a very close relationship and Rick was hoping that the teenage years would not change that dynamic.

"But hopefully I'll be able to get more sleep—since there won't be any video games or music blaring through the apartment," he jokingly told the younger Grimes.

"Funny dad," Carl said, rolling his eyes while his father chuckled. He reached down and grabbed his small backpack that was sitting on the floor by his foot and took out his cell phone. Rick took note of his son's movements and knew that any window of time he'd have to speak with him was quickly closing – once the young man was on his phone, the rest of the world was nothing but a faint memory wrapped up in annoyance.

"So," the senior Grimes began before his son could begin his wireless activity, "what's going on with that young lady I saw you talking to the other day?" He asked while taking a quick peek at his son's face to assess his unrehearsed and uncensored immediate reaction to the question. Carl grinned – _there and gone in the blink of an eye-_ and shifted in his seat.

"Nothing is going on—what do you mean?" the teen asked with rising angst.

"You were looking at her like she's a piece of pepperoni pizza-I figured she's more than just a friend," Rick said feigning disinterest.

"She's just a friend—that's all," he said staring at his dad.

"It's okay if you like her- I mean as more than just a friend," Rick said in hopes of starting the conversation that he wanted to have.

"Dad…she's just a friend," his tone and body language shifting to that of exasperation.

"Okay…Okay…," Rick jumped in before his son's head could explode. "Just wanted you to know that it's fine if you like her."

Throughout his marriage there was always one recurring issue that his wife complained about—it was always a lack of communication. Rick was never one to express his feelings or _vent_ like some men do. His reserved nature and lack of emotion - _as she saw it_ \- was always a point of contention.

She began to see him as more of a visitor in their relationship and less of a permanent resident. After their brief stint in marriage counseling he made the private and personal decision to be more open with his thoughts – especially where his loved ones were concerned; silence would not ruin his relationship with his son like it did with his wife.

"There's something that I wanted to talk to you about," Rick started as his son unlocked his phone.

"What?" Carl asked.

Rick ran his hand over his chin while considering the best way to start…

"I wanted to talk to you about your mom—she and I had a talk the other day," he started as he took a peripheral view of the teen, "and she asked me to have a talk with you about a few things." Carl looked up from his phone, now giving his full attention to his father.

"You know she's been dating Brian for a while, – _more of a statement than a question_ \- your mom likes him a lot." He glanced back to his son before continuing…"Well, he's asked your mom to marry him."

He stopped to give the teen an opportunity to take in what he'd just heard.

"She was kinda—nervous to talk to you about it; she asked me to see what you'd think about her marryin' him."

Rick and Lori were not on the friendliest of terms, for a very long time, but she respected the relationship that he had with their son. She felt a true since of distance when it came to Carl; which she hoped would change as time passed. So, Rick wasn't surprised when she reached out to him for assistance with breaking this _important_ news. Though Carl didn't seem to have anything _in particular_ against Brian, he made it pretty clear by his dismissive attitude towards the man that he didn't consider him…well, he just didn't consider him _anything_.

With the exception of the country music coming quietly through the speakers, the car was silent. As Keith Urban sang about _Somebody Like You_ Rick reflected on the many mistakes he'd made in his personal life and hoped that this was not another one.

"What are you thinking?" he broke the tense silence and asked his son.

"I don't know—I guess its fine," Carl told his dad as he fiddled with his phone.

"We've never really talked about Brian too much, but now he'll be your step-dad, and when you visit with your mom he'll be living there as well." He said.

There was silence again; both car occupants gathering their thoughts.

"Is there anything that you want to talk about—I mean; are you really okay with this? I know it's a lot to get adjusted to...when your mom and I separated, then got divorced, we spent a lot of time talking and thinking about you. People act like divorce messes kids up, but we both thought that you living with two unhappy people would be much worse."

He looked over at his son who was now staring out the window.

"Well," Rick continued, "seems like Brian makes her happy."

He still could not ascertain what the now distant teen was thinking. _Is he angry, sad, relieved…what?_

"Dad—really, I'm fine with it." Carl broke the silence. "Brian is okay and you're right, mom likes him—plus, I spend most of my time with you anyway…so, it doesn't really matter."

"Carl, it does matter," Rick said sharply, "He'll be part of your family; for your moms' sake, you need to give the guy a real chance." He finished emphatically.

"I didn't mean it like that—I'll give'em a chance." He told his dad

"Good son," Rick said as he smiled over at his son, "I'm proud of you—so is your mom. Sometimes she doesn't exactly know how to talk to you, but you know she loves you right—and your feelings really do matter to her."

The young man didn't respond as he appeared to be in deep thought once more. As alike as the father and son were, the one big difference between them was that while Rick was more reflective and silent; Carl was more reflective and vociferous. Carl generally shared every thought he had. This sudden silence was… different.

"I know she loves me. We just don't—get each other too much." He said with a small upturned smile and a shrug. "What about you dad," He looked over at his father, "Do you think you deserve to be happy too?" It was an unexpected question that took Rick by surprise.

"I don't know what I deserve son—but, I'd like to be happy too." He shared honestly.

"Then you have to date dad—you need a girlfriend." The contemplative look quickly replaced with a grin.

"Wow," he looked at his son and laughed. It only took a moment before the car was filled with the laughter of father and son. As they laughed, he knew that this was the right time to divulge some things that he'd kept from his son.

"Speaking of that son—actually I have started dating." He began as the laughter trailed off. "I started kinda seein' someone a few months ago-"

"Really, Dad—why didn't you tell me?" Carl interrupted excitedly. "Who is it?" his excitement escalating.

"Her name is Jessica and I met her through work—she's a court reporter." Rick said reluctantly.

He really had no intention of introducing his 'friend' to his son any time soon. And now, there was yesterday. There was yesterday and there was _her._ Confusion was taking hold.

His taste in women had been pretty consistent throughout his life. Lori had long dark hair, but his preference tended to be blonde or light red hair. He liked thin women; never considered himself much of an 'ass man,' but he did like nice sized breast. There may have been subtle variations throughout the years, but his taste was pretty clear. What was yesterday then? _Her_ … His interaction with Michonne Ridoux the previous day had been…bewildering, to say the least.

 _She wasn't his type –So what exactly was going on yesterday with her. Their interaction was magnetic. There was an instant connection—but she wasn't his type—he'd have absolutely no idea how to approach her. Would she even be interested in him? She was beautiful and strong; but also vulnerable and funny. The loyalty that her colleagues—friends—had for her spoke volumes to the kind of person she must be. He was pretty sure he'd never felt that way before... but she was the mother of a child newly enrolled into his program; and then there's the whole-newly found dead father thing. Even thinking about her was inappropriate. Plus…she wasn't his type…_

"When can I meet her?" Spouted the excited teen; no surprise that the request would be immediately be made.

Rick's newfound thoughts of this new woman, made this even more…weird.

"Like I said, it's not serious, and—I'm not actually sure if it will ever be serious. The only reason I told you is because I don't want you to think that I'm lonely—because I'm not," he lied. Truthfully, he'd been lonely for years, especially when he was married.

"But I promise that if it ever gets serious, I'll introduce you to her." He said

Carl heard what his dad said, but it didn't stop him from spending the remainder of the ride to King County asking his father a barrage of questions. By the time the pair had reached the home of Lori Grimes, Rick had promised to introduce his son to his 'girl' friend.

Rick had a brief interaction with his ex-wife, which generally happened on the drop offs and pickups. After a casually superficial conversation with Lori and her soon-to-be husband, he said his good-bye's and walked to his car. His mind was elsewhere when he looked over and saw Carl running over to his car, "Hey dad," he said as Rick lowered his window, "I just wanted to tell you that you really _do_ deserve to be happy—and if Jessica isn't the one who really makes you happy, then you should look for someone else."

ooooo

His son's words played over and over in his head, much like a scratched album on an eighties record player— _Look for someone else…you deserve to be happy._

Rick had spent his entire adult life doing what he was supposed to do. He was always responsible. He followed every rule put before him. He had never ventured into anything beyond the _normal_ that was expected from him. Loneliness was a well known friend and he was okay with it – _you deserve to be happy_ the thirteen year old love of his life told him.

As he breezed down the highway towards his very lonely apartment he grabbed his phone, glanced down at the numbers and pressed the number…

"Hello," she said.

"Hey—it's Rick—Rick Grimes. I was wondering if you were free for coffee—uh—someday this coming week…"

ooooo

Letting go of the albatross that had been around Patricia's neck for thirty years was—incredible. Both mother and daughter seemed to have a renewed amount of strength; a new drive towards an understanding and trust that neither knew was missing.

There are things in life that are certain and unquestionable: the sun rises in the east and sets in the west - rain has the ability to give new birth to barren fields - a tornado has the capacity to leave destruction in its wake - and Patricia Ridoux is incapable of murdering anyone…especially the father of her child.

Armed with what Michonne knew was truth beyond measure, she decided that her mother's confession would be kept private. She would not share that information with anyone on her team; and especially not their new 'partners.' The nights of self-imposed isolation and torment that her mother had suffered all these years were enough. Having people look at her—that way—Michonne would not allow. She had to work diligently hard on this case to get it solved before the police came knocking at her mother's door. It was a puzzle that she needed to figure out…quickly.

She called Darryl, and without giving him much information, asked him to do a background check on Milton Woods. She asked him to look into Woods' behavior and whereabouts before and after her father's disappearance. There might be a time when she would have to divulge her mother's involvement with Mr. Woods, but she'd cross that bridge only if she had to.

ooooo

It was a peaceful Saturday morning. After the last couple of days, she really needed today. With Andre at Mike's house, and Aunt Liv staying with her mom, she could finally relax and gather her thoughts. She and her mom spent the remainder of Friday talking, and maybe for the first time in her entire life; they had a real conversation.

" _Michonne—I need you to listen to me—it's time for you to live your life. I've watched you for several years. I never felt I had the right to say anything, but now I can. You closed yourself off, I think even when you and Mike were still together. I know it's because of me. I blame myself. You watched me and became just like me—you never truly opened your heart to him.. Baby—it's time to open yourself up. You're about to immerse yourself into Johnny's case and use it as yet another excuse to close yourself off. I don't want you to be like me….It's time to find your joy."_

Her mom's words resonated with her. She couldn't get it out of her mind. It had not been a conscious choice; had she subconsciously shut herself off from real intimacy with a man.

She _did_ have thoughts of _him_ , but was this even the right time to consider having a man in her life—starting something new?

The ringing phone drew her out of her current daydream, "….uh—um—yes, that sounds nice. How about next weekend—um—Saturday..." she said, her nerves working overtime as she sat in her room fiddling with her necklace.

"Okay…we'll confirm a place and time during the week." Rick told Michonne.

* * *

A/N - As always, I'm very grateful to everyone who has decided to join me on this journey. Please take a moment to let me know what you think of the chapter.


	5. Chapter 5 - Temporarily Damaged

**Authors Note: Thank you all for the wonderful and encouraging reviews; special thanks to Big Bear 41 for being my Muse**

 **Enjoy :-)**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Temporarily Damaged**

Daryl Dixon was _somewhat_ tolerant of everyone at the firm—a few he even considered friends. Michonne and Carol, he considered friends; his closest friends actually. He wasn't one for Flowery words or compliments, but they were two people that he respected. His unspoken affection for the two women was no secret to anyone in the office. He would do anything for either woman.

The road to his friendship with Carol was almost as natural as rain in a thunder storm; leading to a relationship that could be best described as symbiotic. Carol kept the trauma she'd experienced in her marriage private; just as Daryl kept his childhood maltreatment private. The words were unexpressed, but understood clearly by both.

His friendship with Michonne did not start out quite so effortless…the road to their friendship was fraught with pot holes. It took a long time for the two to come to an understanding. She was the backbone in her friendships and familial relationships, and outwardly she seemed fearless; but he was in tuned to people enough to know that it was a façade.

He'd watched her, even when he didn't like her; she never let her guard down. What he'd witnessed in the meeting between her and the deputy was…extremely out of character. Before the meeting was over he'd already decided to do a background check - _financial, professional and personal_ -on Rick Grimes.

oooooo

Carl was right about Rick missing the boisterous teen. It was a restless night. The apartment was much too quiet. The overbearing silence led to his unavoidably loud inner turbulence - _What am I doing?-_ The two beers he had while watching Sports Center did not hush his bothersome thoughts. _My life is where I want it to be. Good job, friends, good kid and a nice woman in my life. I shouldn't've called Michonne last night, especially right now; I plead temporary insanity. But still I…can't believe she said yes._

 _God…there's something about her-the smile with the little giggle. The unrehearsed touch she gave me while we were talking; she comes across as super strong, but I could tell that she's also vulnerable—she was trying to hide her tears during the meeting…and her figure…damn._

He was not the type man to even consider dating two women at one time, so this was something he needed to take care of right away. After what Andrea said it was pretty clear that he and Jessica were not on the same page. She was a very nice woman and he liked her but she was not the woman for him. It almost felt like going backwards; back stepping into a life that hadn't worked. It was a life that worked when he was younger. Maybe age and experience had caused him to shed his old life expectations—expectations of what his world should look like.

He went to his bedroom and plopped on the bed. He hoped that sleep would overtake him and he could hopefully put all of his rationalizations to rest.

Lying in bed didn't stop him from being beat down by clashing thoughts; lying there was not helping –sleep did not come easy.

oooooo

Morning came and the sun illuminated his room. Rick sat up in bed shaking off the beginning of a headache—undoubtedly brought on by the beer and lack of sleep. After finishing his morning bathroom routine, he headed into the kitchen to start the coffee. Without much more contemplation or procrastination – it had been hours of both, he walked back to his bedroom and grabbed his cell phone.

"Good morning Rick…how are you?" she inquired happily.

"Hey Jessica, I'm good…I was just calling to see if we could get together later today." He said, pacing his bedroom floor and rubbing the morning stubble on his chin that he decided to live with until Monday morning.

"Sure," she said smiling as she prepared breakfast for her son, "do you have something in mind?" She asked with a suggestive giggle.

"I…umm, was thinking maybe lunch." He said.

It was Sunday morning and though the weather was still hot, it wasn't quite as humid as it had been. He was considering lunch at an outside bistro that she liked.

"Is there something wrong Rick?" She asked noticing his tone.

"Well it's not that anything is really wrong—I just thought maybe we could have a talk." He corrected.

"Rick, you should know that when someone says _we need to have a talk_ it's never a good sign." She laughed nervously.

He laughed as he continued to pace the floor, "I just—just wanted to see if we were on the same page in terms of us seeing each other. I just don't know what you have in your mind and I thought this might be a good time to talk—I've enjoyed hanging out with you and being with you…"

She interrupted, "Are you breaking up with me Rick?" Fully aware of the signs; she'd been here before.

He casually chuckled, "well it's not really breaking up…but I don't want to mislead you, and I don't want you to think that this is something more than what it is."

"What do you—I mean—we've been seeing each other for almost three months, and I don't have sex with just anybody Rick…so yeah, this relationship is more than just hanging out for me." Her agitation escalating - _I should've made you wait. I never should've done those things with you…to you._

When Jessica started dating the man who later became her husband, she made him wait for over four months before she had sex with him. She didn't want him to think that she was just some floozy. She made him work for it.

The short lull in the conversation gave Rick a momentary reprieve to gather his thoughts. All the self-doubt had reemerged. All the inner turmoil that says _this is where you need to be_. _She is what you know_. _You made a commitment to this woman the moment you went to bed with her. It was a promise that you were with her and she was with you._

"Are you seeing somebody else?" she questioned, "Rick, is that what this is about?" Inquiring as her anxiety quickly rose – _is this happening?_

"Honestly Jessica, this isn't about anybody else…I just feel like maybe I've led you to believe that this relationship means more to me than it actually does." He managed to answer.

 _-This can't be about Michonne. I barely know anything about her. I'm sure she has a boyfriend or someone she's seeing. This isn't about her; I'm doing what's right, what I should've done a couple of months ago. Meeting Michonne is why I'm doing it now though…I'm pretty sure._

"Well, I don't understand—if you're not seeing anybody else then why end things? We could continue to see each other. I like you Rick, and I thought you liked me." She said as her thoughts ran rampant – _am I really doing this? Am I begging for this man to be with me? Just walk away Jess. Just let this go._

During the first few years of her marriage, when he moved from criticizing her food, clothes and housekeeping - to criticizing her intelligence - she didn't label it. However, emotional and mental control, bordering on abuse, is what her _then_ best friend labeled it. _But he waited patiently to have sex with me…that's not the kind of man that would hurt a woman._

As time passed she slowly distanced herself from her best friend for suggesting that she walk away from him; she instead walked closer and without pause to her betrothed—damage manifested itself as deep insecurity. Her family stepped in when the physical abuse started.

"Jessica, I do like you—but I'm not the kinda' man to lead you or anybody on…and if I know that this isn't going anywhere, I don't wanna continue…" he trailed off in an attempt to roll this whole thing back. This was not what he wanted. Ending this over the phone was wrong. "I'm sorry."

"You actually didn't answer my question Rick…is there somebody else?" she asked now deflated; the answer was inconsequential. It's the age old question that she and her sorority sisters debated all four years of college; what's worse, for him to break up with you to be with someone else, or for him to break up with you to be alone? Which one takes fewer chunks out of your pride? _I can't believe that at almost forty years old I'm still asking that same stupid question…damn it—I was wearing braces the first time I asked a guy that question._

That ever present awkward silence taking hold of the atmosphere; he again gathered his thoughts.

"Truthfully, there is someone that I'm interested in, but I don't know if it'll even go anywhere. This really isn't about her, I just don't wanna mislead you." He confessed as honestly as he could. - _You deserve the truth but maybe I should've just lied…Fuck. I'm definitely doing this all wrong._

"I understand," she said abruptly, "and I think I'll pass on the lunch, but I do appreciate you giving me a call and being honest. At least you didn't send some weak ass text." She said as she walked into her bathroom, happy that this was happening over the phone so he couldn't see the hurt on her face; or the tears that had gathered. _Stop it…don't you dare freakin' cry. He didn't break me - and neither will you Rick Grimes._

"I'm really sorry Jessica…I hope that I didn't come off as a jerk." He said as he continued to pace the small area of his bedroom floor.

"It's okay…you take care of yourself. Maybe she'll be lucky enough to meet your son." She sarcastically sniped before ending the call. _There it is…my modicum of dignity._

oooooo

When Michonne called Daryl on Saturday and asked him to look into Milton Woods' whereabouts before and following her father's disappearance, he didn't think twice. During the meeting he'd already started piecing together the thirty year old puzzle. Milton Woods wasn't the first person he intended to look into, but he had no problem starting with him.

Milton Woods didn't particularly stand out as a real person of interest in either case, but there was _something_ more going on with that guy. Michonne asking him to look into Woods with the inference that it not be mentioned to the rest of the team…was also _something_. There were only two people that she would ever risk her career and reputation for, or leave her team in the dark; her mother and her son. All the ladies at the firm called Daryl the Red-Neck Columbo—but you didn't have to be Columbo to figure out that this had something to do with her mother. Something happened between Milton Woods and Patricia Anthony. He just didn't know what _yet_.

He sat in his office, which was located in the basement of the large downtown office which housed _Blake, Pelletier and Brooks_ on the twelfth floor. He specifically picked the small room in the basement, away from lawyers, accountants, IT guys and all the corporate 'assholes' as he called them. A private eye needed privacy to work proficiently. The management also allowed him to smoke cigarettes in his small dank office. Plus, it had the added benefit of no one knowing his comings and goings. Complete anonymity.

He flipped through his rolodex, a definite leftover from the 1990's, and pinpointed a few of his contacts that he would need to speak with at the State Bar Association of Georgia, The State Licensing Department and the Travel Office in the State Department. He knew that he wouldn't be able to talk to anyone on Saturday, but formulating a plan was probably the biggest part of his job. By the time he finished his second cigarette, his plan was formulated.

Along with his plan of how to tackle the Stookey and Anthony case, he'd also decided on the best way to go about checking into Rick Grimes.

ooooo

By the end of the day on Saturday it was public knowledge that the body found under the school was in fact Johnny Anthony. On Sunday morning the story was on every news show; local and national. By Sunday afternoon, the calls to the Anthony house were non-stop. Mrs. Anthony was in high demand across the country – everyone wanted an interview with the _newly_ named widow.

Patricia and her family decided to postpone the memorial service until after the media frenzy died down. Monday afternoon, Michonne and Mike were at the airport dropping off Patricia and Andre – they were bound for Texas to stay with Patricia's favorite cousin Gene at his sprawling two hundred acre ranch.

Mike had quickly purchased the airline tickets once they all realized that the press would be relentless. There was no way that Patricia could have any peace as long as she stayed in Georgia. Michonne informed her team and their 'partners' of the temporary move, ensuring them that her mother would be available if needed. Andre had reluctantly agreed to go on the camping trip, so Mike would fly to Texas to bring him back in a couple of weeks.

oooooo

 _"_ _I'm not gonna be like the rest of them dipshits," Darryl told his cousin when he walked out of his aunt's house and never went back._

When his aunt later contacted him about his brother's incarceration, it was unmistakably evident that you can't really walk away from family—especially if they know how to contact you.

Daryl Dixon met Carol Pelletier when she represented his brother Dwight. Dwight Dixon had been convicted of armed robbery; Carol took the case pro bono. She seemed like an okay woman, and when he found out that her firm had an opening for a private investigator, he decided to look into it.

When he applied for the private investigator position at _Blake, Pelletier & Brooks_, he knew that most people would think it was an odd choice. He most certainly did not come from a family of open minded individuals. Most of the people that he was raised with and around would never have considered working with _those_ kinds of people. But Daryl decided he would make his own way in life and follow his own path; even if it was a path that went down a different road than his brethren.

He never thought much of lawyers, " _they're all just a bunch of shyster assholes,_ " but the people at the firm actually seemed like decent people. The only one that seemed to look at him with a certain kind of distain was Michonne Ridoux. She gave him his space and he gave her hers. The other partners and associates just let him do his job, but Michonne seemed to be watching him from a distance; waiting for him to do or say something wrong. The two had what could only be considered _a silently agreed-upon dislike for each other_. Their non-relationship went on like that for nearly one year.

Dwight was up for an appeal and Carol had another case she was working on. As always, she'd spread herself too thin; she asked Michonne to handle the case for her. Michonne reluctantly agreed – _with all the honest wrongly accused people we're defending right now, I can't believe Carol would have me work on this guy's case; doesn't matter if its Dixon's brother. She's gonna really owe me big._

Daryl rode with Michonne to meet with Dwight to discuss his case. The ride to the prison was a very tense one. Once their business at the prison was done, their relationship would never be the same.

oooooo

Michonne and Daryl took their seats at the non-descript table, in the non-descript room; allotted temporarily to inmates and their lawyers. Dwight's reaction to Michonne was disgust quickly followed by indifference. _"_ _Where's the white one?"_ He asked in a casually insulting way.

She explained to him that she was there covering for Carol, but that Carol would handle the final appeal. Her explanation of his current lawyer substitute, however, did not stop him from hurling insults at her. Even after he called her the "uppity black bitch _,"_ she smiled her most sincere pasted on smile – _what an asshole redneck piece of shit_.

"Well Mr. Dixon, I won't get into name calling with you…but, I do think that my firm can assist you," not allowing her thoughts to betray her words; she continued to smile as she pulled open the file with his name on the label.

All the while Daryl sat and observed; his silence broken only when he attempted to control Dwight. Michonne told him it was okay and asked him to, "just let me do my job and make sure that your brother is aware of what's going on with his case."

He watched her interaction with his brother – _why doesn't she just leave_ ; _I never should've come to this stupid ass meeting. He's nothin' but an idiot. This just gives her more fuel to look at me like I ain't nothin' but some back-water redneck_. But, she just kept talking to him; treating him like any other client. She didn't lose her cool.

"Based on our research, we found that there were errors made by the district attorney's office during your initial case, so we're pretty sure you'll be able to get a new trial." Michonne told Dwight at the end of their meeting.

He did not respond. He looked over to his brother, scoffed, then stood and asked for the guard to take him back to his cell.

As Dwight left, Michonne could both see and feel the deflated aura of her aloof co-worker. His embarrassment was clear, but it was more than that; he was hurt. She'd watched him watching his brother and the fear that she saw broke her heart. – _somewhere in him he thinks that this could've been him_. _He's not just embarrassed and sad…he's scared and hurt._

For the first time in the past year of knowing him, she saw through his exterior.

 _What it must've taken for him to walk away from guys like his brother; for him to make the decision to work with our firm; knowing where he came from, it was a life altering decision. He probably lost friends as well as his family._

She glanced over at him.

 _It's not everyone that can go in a different direction from everything they've been taught, and try to be a better human being. Maybe I really did misjudge him. I was right about him coming from a family of assholes. But Rosie was right, I judged him without ever getting to know him. I'm not gonna beat myself up over this though._

She laughed at the epiphany that she'd never admit to out loud, and began to gather her things.

 _Okay, so I misjudged him…but look at him… the walking embodiment of all the prejudice I've fought against my whole life. Wow, I looked at him and saw those assholes that got off for killing Emmet Till. My whole law career was based on daddy's work, and it was predicated on the fact that guys like him are the enemy. I was Atticus Finch and he was Bob Ewell…_

"Wow," she whispered to herself then quietly laughed again… _Guess I'm the asshole after all._

"What's so fuckin' funny?" Daryl asked with a large amount of surliness.

"Nothin,'"she responded with a shrug and a smile.

Daryl noticed the glimmer of compassion on her face—the face that usually only held a slight contempt, mixed with a pretty good helping of disinterest. He saw the look and instantly became uncomfortable. He hastened to the door, "let's get the hell outta' here," is all he could say.

For a reason that was never verbalized by either, the shift in their relationship was almost instantaneous. He instantly grew an admiration for her and her for him.

They left the prison and again drove in silence—silence made even more awkward by the events that had just transpired at the penal institution. The two very stubborn and introspective individuals buried themselves in their thoughts.

Their friendship started very simple and quite organic.

"You wanna stop and get a burger," she broke the silence in the car before they reached downtown Atlanta.

"Yeah, I ain't had shit ta' eat all day," he grumbled with barely a glance at her.

"Okay, let's stop at The Burger Savior on Winter Lane," she said motioning to the highway sign indicating that the exit was two miles away.

"You treatin'?" she asked with a smirk and a giggle.

"Nah…" He looked over at her with a smile hidden in a frown, "You're the big time lawyer with all the damn money—you treat."

From the corner of her eye, she could see the smile he tried to hide.

"You're kind of an ass you know that right?" She smirked.

"Yeah whatever."

At a burger joint off the highway just shy of downtown Atlanta— over burgers and fries—a conversation laced with sarcasm and nonchalance, turned into a real conversation—which turned into a mutual respect— _the shift started that day_ —a friendship…a relationship was born.

oooooo

"Okay, so let's go over what we know…again," Maggie said to her colleagues as they sat at the conference table in the _Blake, Pelletier and Brooks_ large conference room.

It was mid-week and the team had been going over all the information from both the Anthony and the Stookey case sporadically for the last two days. With everyone's current case load, sitting down together to go over the information has been an impossible feat.

The team had spent the last few days going through all the information - either separately or in pairs – which they had from both the Anthony and Stookey case. After Michonne got the information from Darryl, she shared _part_ of her mother's new statement with her team. She told them that the night Johnny went missing he informed Patricia that he had found out _something_ and that he would be able to start spending more time together and with their daughter. So the team decided to start looking closer into the Stookey case.

"We know that the reason for the case is that Robert Stookey was suing the principal of the school and the school board for wrongful termination—he stated that he was fired for teaching a lesson that had not been approved by the school board." Tara said in the middle or chewing her French fry.

Both Tara and Rosita had been working had been following up on the leads Darryl found in reference to the State Licensing Department. They were also still tracking down permit information.

"His contention was that the rules only required him to cover the information, and any extra assignments or lessons that he wanted to give to the student were allowed; as long as the core curriculum was covered." Sasha rehashed as they sat at the table eating lunch and taking notes.

"He was initially put on leave, but because he had no tenure the district, they were able to let him go." Tara added while going back and forth between her notes before continuing…"the teacher that got his classroom was a less experienced white teacher—that's where the racial element came in."

As well accomplished and more than capable attorneys, the five women sat in the room completely frustrated. They were staring at a puzzle unable to figure out how to put it together. The air of frustration in the room was thick enough to bounce a penny off.

"What was the information that Mr. Anthony found out that wasn't in his notes—why the hell can't we see it?" Rosita said with growing frustration to no one in particular as she stood and walked to the window.

"His notes only reference the Principal, Jadis Palesky and the Director of Human Resources, Cesar Martinez. Based on his notes there was some collusion between the two but his notes did not spell out exactly what it was. He did reference some type of incident." Michonne said as she kicked off her shoes and followed Rosita over to the window.

"Rosie's right…what the hell are we missing?" She continued.

"It seems pretty clear that the school board had a weak case. There was obviously some other reason that they fired Stookey. Their reasoning doesn't hold up." Maggie added.

Tara gathered a couple of papers and began, "this is why we need to re-interview Mrs. Stookey. I think that she definitely knows more than what she said thirty years ago. Plus, when she was questioned back then, it was only about her husband's suicide. They never asked her about Johnny Anthony. They certainly didn't ask her anything directly."

"Chonne, why don't you and I meet with her," Rosita interjected as they stood by one of the large windows overlooking the incredible site of the downtown Atlanta skyline.

"Okay—I think that's a good idea Rosie," Michonne said smiling at her friend.

It had been days since The Lipstick Dream Team had been all together in one room. There was a certain comfort that they got when they were together, but words left unsaid had the air in the room slightly off…

"Chonney, I'm about ta' shoot that fuckin' elephant," Sasha grinned looking over at Michonne causing all the women to look in her direction.

Michonne interrupted before Sasha could continue… "Sasha, the only time you call me Chonney is when you're about to say something that you know I'm not gonna like—so what elephant are we shooting?" She asked of her friend with the sour smile.

"What was the rest of your mom's statement?" she said plainly, then paused as everyone realized that…yes…she did in fact shoot the elephant," she continued, "you need to tell us everything…even if it's…you know…embarrassing."

Everyone in the room was looking at Michonne. The look on her face was sorrowful. She had an overwhelming amount of guilt for asking her friends and colleagues to help her with this case, and then willfully withheld information from them. She knew it was wrong.

"I have it typed up…it's in my office. I'll give it to you guys before we finish up. But, can we not talk about it…now?" she implored, more with her eyes than her words. That was all it took. For right now, the topic of Patricia Anthony was put on the back burner.

"Where are we with scheduling interviews with Palesky and Martinez?" Maggie interjected breaking the distracting quietude.

The Lipstick Dream Team worked well because like with any great team, everyone knew their place on it. Everyone had their position on the team. Maggie was the calm, Sasha was the storm, Rosita was the fire, Tara was the wind who got everyone moving, and Michonne was the foundation on which they all resided. Right in this moment, the calm was what everyone needed.

"I think we really need to look into both of them. My gut tells me that they knew a lot more than they admitted to when they were questioned initially." She continued.

"I don't know Mags—my money is still on Merle Deets, that racist security guard. His statement was all over the damn place," Rosita countered.

The discussion continued into the evening. One theory turned into another theory which led to theories of the first theory. It was like a macabre game of dominoes. They all stepped away from the table when Rosita proclaimed their current venture as a "rabbit hole to hell."

oooooo

Rick had spent the week lamenting his actions both Saturday night and Sunday morning. He'd had conversations about the Stookey and Anthony case with both Shane and Abe throughout the week, but his mind was still stuck on ending his 'relationship' with Jessica, and his upcoming 'date' with Michonne. He'd agreed to work on both cases with the men until his program was officially up and running for the school semester, but he was visibly distracted. It was Wednesday, and in just a few days he'd find out if reality matched his dreams. _What if I'm wrong about her…about us?_ was the lingering thought dogging him night and day.

He allowed Shane and Abe to convince him to go out for drinks. Drinking during the week wasn't his usual M.O., but since Shane had been staying with him the past few days, it made since; they'd been drinking every night on Rick's couch in front of the television, so going out would be a nice change of pace.

"I told you Abe, he ain't been payin' attention to shit for the past few days—it's like talkin' to a damn mannequin." Shane told Abe as they sat in the bar looking over at their friend.

Rick was physically there, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. Abe had been talking to him for over twenty minutes – completely unaware that Rick hadn't heard a word. It wasn't until Abe asked him a direct question that he realized his friend had zoned out.

"What the hell's up with you dude?" Abe asked, snapping his fingers in Rick's face to bring him to the present.

"Nothin'—just got a few things on my mind is all." Rick answered giving Abe a small smile. His friends didn't know about Jessica, and he had no intention of telling them about Michonne.

"It must be some woman," his redheaded friend assumed, "only women can make a guy lose his fuckin' shit the way you have." Abe said before taking a long swig of his beer.

"Yeah, that's what I've been sayin'—but he won't cop ta' shit," Shane added.

"Nothin' ta cop to," Rick said as he stood. "Look, I think I'm gonna head out. It's been a long day and I just wanna hit the sack." He finished as he tossed some bills on the bar.

The next ten minutes were spent with his friends attempting to change his mind about staying at the bar; they finally gave up he headed outside to his truck. Once he got in the truck he sat contemplating his next move. He finally decided that he needed to have some kind of contact with the woman that had been on his mind since he'd met her. _I need to know if she's even still interested in meetin' up on Saturday._

oooooo

The lunch pow-wow to discuss the cases turned into a dinner pow-wow. It was now close to nine o'clock in the evening. Michonne was the only one of the team who had a child, so she didn't generally stay late nights during the week. With Andre out of town, Michonne was currently as free as her colleagues. The only one of the women in a committed relationship was Tara; her girlfriend Denise was a doctor, so late nights were a normal occurrence in their house.

As with any meeting that has gone on far too long, the conversation had devolved into a laugh fest. They were all in the middle of making fun of Maggie who was doing her best to deny that something was going on between her and Glenn Rhee. Sasha was referencing Maggie's history of secretly dating one of the student law professors in college when Carol and Daryl entered the room.

"What are you guys still doing here…it sure doesn't look like working?" Carol inquired as she looked across the room with her eyes landing, and then stopping, on Tara who was currently stretched out on the floor in mid giggle.

"Well, you're wrong—we're working super duper hard," Maggie clapped back, looked around the room, and burst into laughter again. The laughter was contagious.

"Cacklin' ass women," Daryl grumbled as the laughter rose.

The group looked at Daryl with playful contempt as he walked towards the table and grabbed a bag of potato chips. Carol followed him to the table. They both sat at the conference table which had been abandoned for the floor about an hour earlier by the room inhabitants.

"What do you think about our new partners Dixon? I know you were giving them the once over the whole meeting," Sasha shouted from the floor as the laughter in the room slowly died down.

Darryl Dixon had instincts that could only be considered as somewhat otherworldly. He was quiet but because he was so observant he saw things that most people didn't. Watching everyone in the meeting he came away with information on all four of the new people they would be currently working with people.

"Yeah, what did you make of Andrea, Ford and both deputies?" Tara chimed in from her splayed position on the floor.

Daryl opened his bag of chips and shoved a few into his mouth before addressing the questions.

"Andrea Harrison is like my old bull dog Joe. You knew he could hurt you, but since he never did, everybody acted like he was weak—until my cousin kept messin' with 'em and got his ass bit," He stopped and looked over at Carol who was directly across from him, "she don't like her boss -the DA- and she's just waitin' to get his job. This is the case that can make her career. She'll step over anybody to get it—don't care who it is. And, she don't like ya'll too much either." He deadpanned.

"Yeah, I got that impression too," Carol said, "we need to tread lightly with her—we've all worked with her before and we know how she is—this Anthony case will get her national attention. People do all kinds of crazy things for that kind of notoriety." Everyone nodded in agreement and looked back at Darryl.

"Walsh seems okay…didn't really pick up nothin' from 'em. Seems like a hot head, but don't think he's gonna be too hard to deal with…" Darryl continued. Everyone appeared to agree with his assessment...

Daryl also picked up on Andrea's attraction to Shane, but he decided that it wasn't worth mentioning. Ironically, he could see that Shane was a flirt, and the only women in the room that he didn't openly flirt with were Andrea and Tara.

"What about Abraham Ford—what do you think about him?" Tara asked while slowly moving to a sitting position.

"The guys a dick." he said without hesitation. "He ain't happy 'bout workin' with us…but he ain't gon' screw the pooch. He's more of a hot head than Walsh, but he's a straight shooter. He ain't gon' let none of the Harrison's bullshit get in his way of solving this."

No one responded but seemed to silently agree, he continued, "Oh, and both Sasha and Rosie got the hots for his ginger ass." He said with his Daryl-esq smirk as he looked over at both women who were sitting on the floor across from each other. Everyone erupted into laughter.

Sasha and Rosita were as alike as they were different. The similarity in their personalities generally meant that they drifted to the same type of man. If the same type of man happened to be the same man, then the 'sister pact' would come into play. They agreed about five years ago that they would never pursue the same man. The situation came up not long after they joined the firm with an officer and it almost ruined not just their friendship, but the budding friendship that would eventually become the Lipstick Dream Team.

"Fuck you Dixon." both Rosita and Sasha shouted in unison. They knew he was right, and both, though they didn't have to say it out loud, were disappointed because it was clear that Abe would be off limits.

"Whatever," Daryl shot back as he continued his stare down of both women, "I know what I know."

"That doesn't surprise me," Maggie said, joining Daryl and Carol at the table, "ya'll both like that kinda super-alpha-male-macho-asshole type." she said causing the room to erupt with laughter once more.

"You fuck off too, Mags," Rosita said mid giggle, also joining her colleagues at the table.

The laughter died down as the new elephant in the room appeared. The entire team was cognizant of the Rick Grimes 'situation.' No one had addressed what they witnessed the day of the meeting with Michonne because they were not sure if she was ready to deal with her obvious attraction to the deputy. They -not including Daryl- had discussed it amongst themselves, but Carol asked them not to broach the subject with her just yet; they all agreed.

Michonne turned from the window and walked over to the table where all her co-workers –sans Tara who had seemingly claimed the floor as her own—were now congregating.

"Do you think it's possible to be damaged by getting too much love?" Michonne asked to no one in particular while staring into the abyss. "I mean, if the person giving you love doesn't ever really open up to you…do you think you can end up missing out on something that you need to be whole?" She continued.

The light and jovial mood in the room turned instantly. Tara rose from the floor and joined her colleagues. As she sat down the room stayed silent. Sadness and regret now permeated the air; the mood turning somber. The question left the private investigator and the attorneys introspectively considering their own upbringing.

"I think that we're all damaged in some way; some damage is permanent—it burrows itself into the brain, the heart, and controls your actions; some damage is temporary—it tries to take permanent hold, but it attaches itself to our tear ducts and get washed away instead." Carol said looking first at Michonne, then around the table at the rest of her staff.

She continued, "I think most of us are like cars that get into a fender bender. The damage is there, but you can get it fixed if you want to. Some people do it right away, some wait for a long while, and then some… never fix it."

"Maybe all the love my mom gave me, while at the same time never being completely open with me, changed me in some way—she waits until now to tell me things that she should've said years ago… _she stopped as she recalled some of the words her mom had only just shared with her…_ "Maybe that's why I'm permanently—"

"Stop it right now!" Rosita interrupted. "That's a damn rabbit hole we're not going down… _she snapped slamming her hand on the table…_ there is nothing wrong with you. You're one of the best and most compassionate people I've ever known in my life—and I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit here and let this become another one of your damn pity parties."

They had all been friends for years…this was the first time in all those years that anyone in that room had ever seen Rosita become emotional. She wiped away a tear before she stood up and turned her back to the table.

Michonne looked down, unwilling to face her friends. She had not told them about her pending - _meeting? date?-_ with Rick. From the time he called her she'd had conflicting emotions. On Sunday she was going to call him to say that she had over booked and would not be able to make it; Monday she was going to text him and wish him a good day and express how she was looking forward to Saturday; Tuesday she was going to text him and say she was busy on Saturday; and now, Wednesday, it was the end of the day and all she wanted to do was see him. She'd considered talking to her friends about what she was feeling, but she wasn't quite sure herself.

Rosita's outburst and subsequent emotions affected everyone in the room. No one said anything right away.

"Rosie's right Chonne," Maggie whispered as she wiped away a stray tear, "you may be a little bit of a prude, but you're still more normal than most people on this ever lovin' planet." She smiled looking at a very reticent Michonne who did not look up.

"That's damn right Chonney," Sasha said as she stood and walked over to Rosita.

"I didn't mean to bring everybody down…I'm sorry. It's just something that I had on my mind." Michonne said, finally facing her friends…

"I truly love you guys—" was all she managed before all the tears that she'd been holding erupted. It was a cry that she had not allowed herself to have - the cry for her marriage; for her mother; for her father; for her loneliness. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. – _I waited too long to fix the dent…this is permanent._

Maggie immediately stood, grabbed a napkin for the discarded lunch pile in the middle of the table, and headed for her friend.

As if reading her mind, Carol reached over to where Michonne was sitting, pulled down one of her hands from her face, and nudged her so that they were looking in each other's eyes _..."Sweetie_ , it was temporary damage… and it's been washed away now baby girl."

oooooo

After the emotion fueled tete-a'-tete, Carol ended the talk by simply stating, _"_ _we're all kick-ass and we don't break."_

The pure exhaustion and emotional drain in the room was palpable. Daryl rolled his chair over to Michonne and bumped her shoulder. He'd kept his distance during her emotional admission; the little bump was the same, for the two of them, as one hundred hugs from anyone else.

Tara re-focused the team. "Let's finish this up—I got a girlfriend that's gonna forget what I look like."

Everyone in the room had made a non-verbalized agreement that what had just occurred within that office building, behind those walls, was something that needed no further discussion. The group wrapped up the meeting after deciding on their next course of action in regards to the Anthony and Stookey cases.

Rosita stayed uncharacteristically quiet after her impassioned display. She stood, walked over to Michonne and gathered all of her stray locs; she removed the hair scrunchie, and neatly wrapped them back into the band. Michonne looked up and over her shoulder at her friend; she gave her hand a quick squeeze– only a few seconds before Rosita lightly shoved her.

"Okay female Daryl," Michonne quipped as they giggled at Rosita's clearly Daryl-esq move.

Michonne's phone began buzzing as the group gathered their belongings from the table.

"Chonne…that's yours, want me to get it?" Tara asked as she bent down to pick up Michonne's phone from the floor.

"Yeah, thanks—I'm sure its Andre—don't know why he's up so late…" she shouted over to Tara.

Tara picked up the phone and turned it over to display the name as it buzzed in her hand…a smile quickly graced her face as she walked over to her friend-arm extended- "it's Rick Grimes."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for hanging in there with me...this was a difficult chapter. Please leave let me know what you think.


	6. Chapter 6 - Pillow Talk

**Chapter 6: Pillow Talk**

Tara picked up the phone and turned it over to display the name as it buzzed in her hand…a smile quickly graced her face as she walked over to her friend - arm extended -

"It's Rick Grimes…."

oooooo

Hearing his name caused an instant rush of conflicting thoughts, first - _hopefully he doesn't break our coffee date_ , then – _hopefully he recognized that getting together is a bad idea_.

Well aware of all her compadre's in the room, she took the phone from Tara and quickly walked towards the board room windows - away from the others in the room.

Daryl had already begun his investigation of Rick. He'd asked around – the courthouse, police department and the sheriff's station. So far, he learned that Rick was divorced, had one son, was promoted a few years ago to his current position, had no complaints or reprimands on his jacket and, got along pretty well with his colleagues. He also went through his financials, which looked okay.

The only information, which _could_ be a cause for concern, was that he'd been dating a court reporter named Jessica Anderson for the past few months. Recent gossip - as of Monday - was that the two were no longer seeing each other. According to the gossip grape vine, he'd dumped her. She'd had a not so private bathroom conversation - which took off like a California wildfire. Daryl was pretty sure that the timing of Rick's ending his relationship with the court reporter was no coincidence; it was because of the meeting.

She pressed the phone icon and accepted the call. "Hello,"

Michonne discretely glanced over her shoulder at her friends to see that they had slowed their movement; putting on a good show of not listening. The conversations that were going on prior to her phone call had trailed off.

"Hi Michonne—it's Rick. I hope I'm not disturbing you." He said while he sat in the parking lot of _Raise_ _The Bar_ – nervously patting his steering wheel.

"Hey…No…you're not disturbing me," -she responded in a low tone while fiddling with her necklace- we're just finishing up a meeting—is everything okay," she nervously inquired, breathing softly.

"Oh yeah, everything's fine—haven't talked to you in a few days, and I just wanted to—umm, touch base…" he trailed off before continuing, "see if we're still on for Saturday."

"Yes," she said without hesitation, glancing over her shoulder as if her friends could somehow hear his question; "I mean—Saturday still works for me," smiling at thought of seeing him again.

He started the ignition and began backing out of the parking lot, smiling at the thought of seeing her again. "Is it okay if I call you back once you're out of your meeting?" He asked - pulling onto the nearly deserted street.

"Sure…can you give me about thirty minutes, I should home by then." She said.

She turned around to face the questioning smirks of all the women in the room. Darryl was walking towards the door. She walked to the table, without speaking a word; suppressing the smile but unable to hide her new found glow, and gathered her belongings. Before any words could be uttered by her inquisitive friends, she coolly stated, "We'll talk about it later." She then followed Daryl out the door.

oooooo

His call came in just as she entered the door to her unusually dark and quiet home.

"…well, I was a little surprised to get your call," she laughed nervously answering his question about the circumstances of his initial call on Saturday night. She had him on speaker as she stood in her bedroom removing her clothes.

"It was a thought I had that I just kinda went with," he said with a slight chuckle as he sat on his coach removing his boots.

He had agonized over calling her. There was nothing casual or nonchalant about this call to her, or the call on Saturday night. The unexplainable magnetic connection he had to her was nothing casual. He did not just 'go with it.' The call was methodical and deliberate – a desire that he would keep to himself for now.

"But don't get me wrong, it was nice to get your call," she said as the butterflies began to flutter.

"So, how are you doing with everything?' He asked, hoping that the subject wouldn't be too difficult.

"It's been a little overwhelming but I think it's gonna be okay. I was able to have an actual conversation with my mom. You probably already know that she's in Texas with relatives until all the craziness dies down," she replied.

He nodded to himself, not responding verbally. Abe and Shane had both denounced the action of whisking Mrs. Anthony out of the state without notice. Neither man was happy about that particular turn of events. They believed that the lawyers were hiding something and didn't completely trust this new 'partnership'; yet another topic that Rick would not mention in this particular conversation.

She continued, "I feel like even though there's a lot that we have to deal with, it's the beginning of something new."

Her mind went through the events of the day. She had finally opened herself up and if Carol was right, maybe she was truly on the road to some kind of 'dent' recovery. She had succumbed to her long denied intrinsic need for acceptance; someone to say that, 'yes,' you are more than just okay. This new relationship, if that's what this was, would be the start of a new chapter in her life – having finally ended the one on self-doubt. – _he sounds so good…_

He smiled to himself and added, "Something new is a good thing I think." He said before realizing that she may have taken his words in a different way than he had intended. "How is your mom doing with everything?"

"She's gonna to be okay I think—the truth is that my mom has always been a little distant. This past week we've been able to really talk. It's been—eye opening." She confessed as she pulled on her oversized tee-shirt.

They continued to talk about the case that was now of national interest. Rick shared what would be his small part in the partnership and Michonne revealed some of the plans that her team was working on.

ooo

"…Mike and I started dating our first year in college but we didn't get married until we graduated, so we were together for thirteen years, but was actually only married for nine of those years—we've been divorced for six years…" she stopped for a moment, "took us a long time to make it back to a friendship, but we've been friends for a while now. I actually consider him one of my closest friends." She smiled thinking about how important her relationship with her ex-husband is to her.

"Do you and your ex-wife get along?" She asked interrupting the momentary conversational break.

He chuckled…"we get along much better now that we're not together. I wouldn't call us friends but I think we do a good job of working together for our son's sake."

They had been talking for a while and the conversation had slowly turned more personal. Both were carelessly sharing small parts of their lives as they got more relaxed in their respective beds.

"…so you've been divorced for three years, you have a job you love and wonderful thirteen year old son and—you don't have a girlfriend?" The question was posited in the most blasé manner she could feign, but it was actually nothing of the sort. She was incredibly interested in his 'relationship status'; both excited and nervous to hear his answer.

"Well…" he started, considering his words very carefully, "No—I don't have a girlfriend, but I did start seeing someone a few months ago—she's a nice woman and all, but it wasn't serious…it's...umm…over now." He stammered.

Michonne was taken aback and not exactly sure how to respond. His honesty was refreshing..."So what's wrong with her?" she asked with a giggle, lightening the suddenly uncomfortable moment.

He chuckled, "nothin'—she's nice, just—not the woman for me." He said within a nervous chuckle. He continued, "Just not a real connection."

"Oh…" she said sensing the sudden change in mood on the phone.

"I hope that doesn't make me seem like some kind a player or somethin'. I hadn't dated anyone at all since my divorce—she was really the first person that I started going out with. I just didn't wanna start going out with you—uh—without you knowing." He admitted.

"What about you…no boyfriend or main man that you're dating?" He quickly inquired.

"No—there's no boyfriend or anybody that I'm dating. Guess my life has been pretty boring for the last few years—until recently that is…" she laughed.

"I must say that I'm surprised…but glad to know it."

The mood on the phone shifted instantly. Sexual tension quickly rising; she smiled and shifted in her bed.

ooo

The conversation was all encompassing. They talked about everything from television shows to the name of their childhood pets; it was like talking to an old friend. Rick looked over at the clock next to his bed and saw that it was after midnight.

"Wow…" he interrupted himself in the middle of describing his old hometown to her, "it's after midnight—I think I'd better let you get some sleep. I'm sorry I kept you on the phone so long." He said smiling with his head resting comfortably on his pillow.

"Don't apologize—I've done my fair share of keeping you up as well." She giggled snuggling her head further into her pillow, "but you're right—it is late."

There was silence as neither was quite ready to say good night and end this indescribable connection. The call which began as a simple let's just 'touch base' turned into the most natural pillow talk. Both spent time thinking about how nice it was to talk to the other.

"Guess I'll see you Saturday—I expect you to be on time, with your whole tardiness thang," he laughed.

"Oh…aren't you the funny one," she playfully retorted, "and yes…I'll be on time." They both laughed.

"Sleep well." He whispered.

Throughout the conversation his voice, along with his words…but mainly his voice, had her body responding in a way that she had not experienced in a long time. She was sexually turned on in the most powerful way. The butterflies in her stomach had turned into a throbbing at her core. He whispered 'sleep well' and the wetness it elicited was a lovely awakening. She hadn't considered pleasuring herself in _she really didn't know how long_ —however, she was considering it at _that_ moment. It had been a couple of years since she'd had sexual intimacy, but it was more than that. All her senses were heightened. He'd awakened her desire to laugh, think and feel. Being with him sexually would only be the cherry on top of an already satisfying cake.

"You sleep well, too." She responded.

She had no idea what she was doing to him. Talking to her had been incredible. Her laugh was infectious. Every time she laughed his heart beat a little faster. Every time she made fun of his southern twang his heart raced. And every time she said something in that low throaty way of hers, his mind went to other places. It had only been a couple of weeks since he'd had sex, but his desire to have it while he laid in his bed talking to this provocative woman...was overwhelming. She'd excited him in every way. There was a sincere amount of guilt that he acknowledged for his salacious thoughts. However, when she said 'you sleep well, too,' the growing erection that he had tried to deny for the last hour was now undeniably pulsating and hard as steel.

They ended the call…neither went straight to sleep.

oooooo

 **Barbara Stookey** agreed to meet with Michonne and Rosita. It was Thursday afternoon and the weather had cooled down just enough for Georgia residents to take a much needed breath of relief. Michonne had avoided direct questions regarding Rick's reason for calling her the previous night. As the attorney's parked in front of the Stookey residence, Rosita laughed at her friends' ability to continually answer every question with a question. "…why would he call me for anything other than asking about the case?"

Michonne found herself dodging questions from all the ladies of the Dream Team the entire morning. Tara was the first; waiting by her car door when she arrived at work. Maggie cornered her in the break room/kitchen as she poured her coffee. But Sasha took the cake; she waited outside of the bathroom stall and questioned her from the stall to the sink - then to the door. Michonne's continued answer to all was…"He was asking how I'm doing—I promise we'll talk about it later."

She had every intention of telling the ladies about Rick…about how she was feeling, but she wasn't exactly sure how to begin the conversation. Dodging their questions was the best way to handle it… _for now_.

The Stookey residence was located in Stone Mountain, a suburb of Atlanta. The neighborhood was lined with traditional style two story houses and manicured lawns. Michonne and Rosita took note of the aesthetically pleasing block as they exited the vehicle. The red brick traditional home was professionally landscaped with a custom fence.

They approached the door of the large home; a man appeared in the walk way and began to approach them. He was exquisitely bronze, over 6 feet tall, broad shouldered with dark questioning eyes. He strolled towards the women with a confident swagger.

Barbara and Robert Stookey had a five year old son, Robert Stookey, Jr., when the senior Stookey died. The man approaching them was almost surely that little boy all grown up. He smiled once he got into arm's length of his visitors. Along with his other attributes, his smile was bright and infectious.

"Hello. I'm Bob Stookey - he said as he reached his hand out to shake Michonne's hand - you must be the attorney's from _Blake, Pelletier, and Brooks..._ " he surmised.

Michonne wasn't exactly sure of the reason, but since her conversation with Rick she was experiencing what could only be regarded as a sexual reawakening. For the first time since her college years, she had a heightened sexual awareness.

The stares from men was nothing new to her - she generally chose to ignore them. Unlike some women, she stayed in shape and wore appealing outfits for herself - not for men; she felt good when she looked good. But today she was more…alert. When she shook Bob Stookey's hand there was no denying that he was attracted to her. He drank in every part of her body from her face, to her breast, to her hips, to her legs – then back up.

He was looking at her like she was a cold glass of water sent to satiate a severely dehydrated traveler. She was not interested in him in _that_ way – but his attraction to her turned her on completely - _damn_ \- He shook her hand, squeezing it ever so lightly. She smiled while shaking his hand noticing the insinuation in the handshake; the reemerged sexual awareness she was _undergoing_ caused her to slightly fidget. She was sure that Rosita would comment later.

"Yes we are," Michonne responded as she and Rosita shook his hand in turn.

They followed their host into his home and commented on its beauty. As the colleagues entered the house, Michonne could feel Bob Stookey's eyes on her; his mother greeted them in the entryway of the impressive home.

Mrs. Stookey was an ample woman with shoulder length salt and pepper hair. The lack of age on her face belied her actual age. She was a woman who one could see had been quite the catch in her youth. She was wearing a simple floral summer dress that landed right below her knees.

The widow was very pleasant and seemingly accommodating, but Michonne had the feeling that the woman was not being completely open and honest.

"…when was the last time you remember your husband meeting with Johnny Anthony?" Rosita asked as the four sat in the large room; Mrs. Stookey called it the family room. They were currently enjoying a glass of iced tea that their host insisted they have.

As the lady of the house went through her mind to recall certain events and times, it became quite apparent that she was leaving out information. "Do you remember ever meeting with the principal of the school?"

As the questions began to increase, Mrs. Stookey became less open.

Her very attentive and very good-looking son took note of his mother's apprehension and began to interject. "What exactly is all of this about?" He asked both attorney's; his eyes resting on Michonne.

The two counselors did their best to explain what they and the officers were working on. Their explanation only somewhat satisfied his curiosity.

"We're trying to piece together the final day that my father was seen—alive." Michonne said hoping to seem much more unaffected than she actually was.

Barbara Stookey smiled softly at Michonne, "I'm so very sorry about your father – he was a really nice man."

"I appreciate that Mrs. Stookey," Michonne offered, "and I want to thank you again for letting me and my friend have access to you husband's notes and day planner—all those years ago."

Barbara Stookey had given Michonne and Sasha the information they requested when the two new attorneys' were looking into the case the first time. She had boxed up her husband's papers and was happy to hand them over to the women – she didn't have the heart to throw them out. She refused to give them to the police, but giving them to Johnny Anthony's daughter seemed like the right thing to do.

The irony is that the day planner she so kindly gave them was the one thing that led them to question her statements to the authorities - after her husband was found hanging in his study. Her statement contradicted his notes; the papers she couldn't destroy because of sorrow, could be the same ones to destroy her.

The sympathetic offering seemed to lighten the growing tension in the room. Rosita and Michonne looked at each other and knew that it was time to use the old trick that the latter had learned from one of her law professors. She'd taught it to each of her co-workers.

" _The best way to get the truth -her professor instructed- is to casually mention certain names and pay close attention to any reaction –it may even be a non-reaction—it elicits._ "

Throughout the conversation the two attorneys mentioned various names from their 'persons of interest list.' Mrs. Stookey shifted ever so slightly in her seat with the name of Cesar Martinez, and eyes widened -just a smidge- with the mention of Garreth Tracker. The movements went unnoticed by her son, but duly noted by the legal sleuths.

The two lawyers left the Stookey residence thanking Mrs. Stookey for her time. Bob Stookey followed them to their car.

"It was really nice meeting you both," he said shaking Michonne's hand; staring directly at her face with purpose. He smiled and shook Rosita's hand but continued his stare down the dark beauty.

"Do you have a card?" he asked without any pretense that his request was professionally related.

"Sure," Michonne responded as she reached into her briefcase and removed a business card. As she handed him the card his fingers accidentally - on purpose - brushed hers. She displayed a coquettish smile and thanked him for his kindness, then got into the car – _Is he really coming on to me or I'm I just imagining things?_

Neither woman had their seatbelt completely fastened before Rosita turned to Michonne with a smirk...

"So apparently you now have two new boyfriends…" Rosita chided, "I'd hate to have to report you to the deputy." Her friend responded with a side eye look of indignation.

Before they drove away from the Stookey residence Michonne felt her phone buzz. She glanced at her phone and saw a new text message…it was Rick.

 _I hope you had a nice day and weren't too tired. Can I give you a call tonight?_

She sent a quick reply ignoring her glaring friend, then drove away from the residence.

oooooo

At the same time that Michonne was being ogled by Bob Stookey; Abe, Shane and Rick were at the police station awaiting the arrival of **Arat Jarrod** for her follow up interview - the previous one was thirty years ago.

The Youth Education and Enrichment Program experienced the biggest down time during the beginning of summer. Rick was happy when his captain asked him to assist with the Anthony case.

Arat Jarrod was a petit woman with beige skin, thick eyebrows, shortly quaffed black and reddish hair with eyes that were dark and cat-like. She was wearing blue jeans with a button down plaid shirt; not seasonally appropriate, but nicely put together.

"Miss Jarrod we were reviewing your statement from thirty years ago and noticed a couple of inconsistencies." Abe began after getting the long-time stenographer some coffee, and leading her into one of the cleanest interrogation rooms at the station.

She was looking around the darkly lit interview room. The mirrors covered the top half of the opposite wall. She imagined that there were probably other police officers behind the glass – like on television. She noticed the frown on the red headed officers' face and the slight smirk on the dark haired deputy's face. She decided to focus on the deputy with the calming blue eyes – _he doesn't seem quite as angry as the other two._

"That was a long time ago—I'm not sure how you expect me to remember the things I said back then." She stated, growing more frustrated with having to answer questions that she answered so many years ago.

"In your statement to the police, you said that Mr. Anthony had a meeting with Gabriel Church right before he went missing. Your notes confirmed your statement. However, Robert Stookey's day planner indicated that he had a meeting with Mr. Anthony at the same time."

Abe walked closer to the nervous woman, and then continued…

"there was never a reason to compare the two planners until now –Abe got close to the slightly skittish assistant - the meeting with Mr. Church was scheduled at 5:00 p.m. in downtown Atlanta, and the meeting with Mr. Stookey was scheduled at the same time in King County. Clearly Mr. Anthony could not have been in both places..." Abe deadpanned.

"You were responsible for scheduling his appointments, so you are the only one who can clear this up for us." Shane interjected

"Who was Johnny Anthony meeting with before he went missing?" Abe inquired

"I really can't remember. If I said that he was meeting with Gabriel Church—then, I stand by that." she nervously pointed out.

Rick had been watching the interaction and was sure that the secretary was hiding something. He stood from his seat across from her and walked around the table – taking the seat directly to her right.

"What is it you're afraid of Ms. Jarrod?" he asked in his most sincere southern gentlemanly voice.

She stared around the room attempting to collect herself and reel in her emotions.

"I was only twenty three years old. I had just gotten out of college when Mr. Anthony hired me. I tried to do my best—but sometimes I mixed things up."

She reached into her purse and grabbed a handkerchief before continuing… "I told the detectives that Mr. Anthony was meeting with Gabriel Church before he went missing, but the truth is that I don't know who he went to meet—I made an appointment with Mr. Church and Mr. Stookey at the same time…" She stopped and began staring at the men looking for their condemnation at her mistake of thirty years ago…

"When I told Mr. Anthony he said it was okay—he wasn't even mad at me. He said he would make it work—then he left—that was the last time I saw him." she stopped and began to wipe away the few tears that had fallen. "He was such a nice man," she sniffled more into her handkerchief.

The men did not respond. Rick reached out and gave her arm a light squeeze. She looked up and smiled lightly at Rick.

"I'm a much better executive assistant now," she confessed hoping to convey her professional growth.

oooooo

Rick was still in a fog of both excitement and expectation when he and Shane arrived at the station that morning. His friend was too busy nursing his hang over to ask him a lot of questions about his current mood.

He picked up his phone when he arrived back at Shane's desk after the interview and sent a text.

"What do ya'll think?" Shane asked of his two colleagues after walking the secretary to the door.

"She's a little too nervous for my taste—but she seemed to be telling the truth," Abe offered as they gathered at his temporary partners' desk. "We need to meet with Gabriel Church."

"I was thinking the same thing. Why don't we head over to community center in the morning," Shane suggested.

"Sounds good," Rick said distractedly glancing down at his phone to see the new text message…from Michonne.

 _Yes…9:00_

Shane and Abe looked at Rick, who was clearly not paying attention to them or actually involved in their conversation.

"When are you gonna tell us about this woman that you're seein'," Abe asked his grinning friend.

Rick did not respond as he sent out another text message. Shane walked closer to the distracted Rick and looked down at his phone. Before Rick could turn the phone away from his friend, Shane saw the name. Both men looked at each other, Shane with a smirk and Rick with a silent plea.

"Nothin' to tell," Rick responded to Abe before returning his attention to Shane.

"Fine…you don't gotta kiss and tell…but clearly some babe got your dick all tied up in knots," Abe joked as he walked closer to Rick and hit him on the back before turning to walk towards his own desk.

"Tomorrow morning at nine hundred hours guys." Abe shouted back to the two deputies.

Rick and Shane remained standing in the same spot – awkwardly silent.

"Not here Shane—we'll talk about it later," Rick told his friend. Shane nodded his response – unrelenting smirk on his face - and sat at his desk.

oooooo

"…you were on my mind all day," he confessed, lying in bed clad in only boxer shorts.

There was no way to really get away from Shane's questions. Rick was honest and told his friend that he was just trying to figure it all out himself. _"I know I like her. Right now that's all I know."_ He'd shared, and much to his surprise, his long-time friend let the subject drop without too much fuss.

"You were on my mind too," she shared, lying in bed clad in waist length floral night gown.

When Michonne and Rosita returned to the office, they only briefly met with the rest of the team. Maggie and Sasha had already scheduled a meeting with Cesar Martinez and Carol had scheduled a meeting with Jadis Palesky. Michonne decided that she would accompany Carol to the meeting with the ex-Director of Human Resources for the school district; Tara had a brief conversation with Abraham Ford and invited herself to their planned impromptu meeting with Gabriel Church in the morning.

Everyone was too preoccupied with their plan of attack in regards to the Anthony/Stookey case, to continue their inquisition of their friend.

The past few days were like a whirlwind. It all seemed like some weird episode of a poorly written sitcom. She was trying to solve the thirty year old case of her father's murder; while beginning a new relationship with a cop. _This is absolutely crazy…but I can't wait to talk to him. I'll stop by the store and pick up some wine…a little wine while we talk…that should help me fall asleep quicker than last night._ She laughed to herself as she pulled into the grocery store.

"So what was on your mind—about me?" He asked suggestively.

"You tell me first," she flirtatiously shot back.

"I was thinking of how beautiful you are and how I'm looking forward to seeing you on Saturday," he answered honestly, shifting in bed.

"I love how honest you are." she giggled; picking up her wine glass and indulging in another drink of her favorite Merlot.

"Now you answer my question—I know how good you lawyers are with not answering questions."

"That's funny," she put down her wine glass and snuggled into her pillow, "I'll try not to be offended by that."

"See how you haven't answered my question—Ms. Ridoux, what were you thinking about me today?" he reiterated.

She giggled, "I was thinking that you are such a nice man…a good looking man that I enjoyed talking to more than I've enjoyed talking to anyone in…I don't truthfully know how long."

There was that tension again. There they were - all the unexpressed sexual desires lingering in the background of their seemingly innocent conversation.

"Is that right?" he postulated, feeling his growing arousal.

"Yeah," she responded; her newly awakened sexuality making itself known by the sudden wetness between her legs. She pulled her legs together and snuggled deeper into her bed.

"So if coffee goes okay—I guess you'll let me take you out on a real date then," he asked in statement form.

"Hope you're on your "A" game with the coffee Mr. Deputy," she said. They both laughed.

"See how you like to not answer my questions counselor."

"Yes—I'd like to go out on a real date with you—if you asked me."

"Consider yourself asked," he said; his hand finding its way under the covers to give attention to his aroused state.

"What do—" her _ringing doorbell_ interrupting her words… "What in the hell…"

"What's wrong?" he asked quickly becoming concerned.

"It's my doorbell." she said, now out of her bed and walking to her closet to get her robe.

" _Open up chica!"_

" _Yeah open the door 'Chonney!"_

She could hear the shouts from the front door. Then there was knocking and giggling.

"Damn it—it's the girls…" she told Rick with both surprise and a lot of frustration, "I'm sorry. Clearly they've all lost their minds."

"It's alright," Rick chuckled again, though he was more than a little disappointed, "I have friends like that too."

"I'm glad you called me Rick," she headed down her stairs, "sleep well okay."

"You too 'Chonney," he joked, "we'll talk tomorrow."

They ended the call as she unlocked her front door.

* * *

A/N - Thank you all for taking this journey with me. Please let me know what you think about this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7 - Certain Insecurities

**Authors Note: Happy Saturday everyone. It's a day early, but here's chapter 7. It was fun writing this one, so I figured-why wait. Looking forward to seeing what ya'll think.**

 **Enjoy**

* * *

 **Chapter 7 – Certain Insecurities**

She reached up and unlocked the door. As she pulled the door open she could already hear the giggles and laughter.

The first to step into her house was Rosita, next was Sasha followed by Maggie, and much to her surprise, Glenn. They all pushed by her and walked into her house. This was not the first time that her friends had barged into the solace of her abode. They most assuredly found their way to her when they knew Andre was either with his father or with one of his grandmothers.

"What are you all doing here?" she asked with as little frustration that she could muster. They all stopped in the living room. "Do you know how late it is?" She questioned.

"Yeah we know what time it is," Rosita said with a smirk - heading towards the kitchen. She was carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and a box of _Mama Gallegos'_ tamales in the other.

"We never got to celebrate your birthday so we decided tonight was as good a night as any," Sasha said following Rosita into the kitchen. They both sat the bottles of wine down on the marble counter top, followed close behind by the others.

Rosita began looking for a bottle opener while Sasha opened one of the upper cabinets to retrieve plates for the tamales.

Glenn walked over to Michonne and gave her a little nudge, "I'm sorry 'Chonne," he offered with a small apologetic smile, "They practically kidnapped me." He said shooting a _yep-I'm-ratting-you-out_ look towards the two busy women.

Glenn always looked so young and innocent; the women, primarily Rosita, always managed to pull him into their craziness. Michonne gave him a sympathetic smile then turned her glare towards Rosita.

"I told them that the very least we could do was call to make sure you were awake," he continued, "but they wanted to surprise you." He shrugged his shoulders while shaking his head in disbelief.

"Glenn you are such a snitch," Sasha said elbowing Rosita while they stared disapprovingly at Glenn.

"Leave him alone," Maggie said, interrupting the angry non-verbal conversation being held between the women and Glenn, "I told y'all that we should've called just like Glenn did."

"Where's your bottle opener?" Rosita asked, ignoring Maggie - opening and closing drawers -

Michonne was walking back through her living room to lock the front door, "it's in the third drawer over by the dishwasher," she shouted back.

After she locked the door and headed back to the kitchen, she saw the group had already laid the wine glasses and plate of tamales on the dining room table; the dining room was a modest size, adjacent to the kitchen, with a large antique vintage style cherry wood table with six chairs in the center of the room.

The room was very sparsely decorated with a large cherry wood armoire-matching the table; complete with china dating back to before the American Civil War – she inherited the dishes from her paternal grandmother. There were a few family pictures on the wall, but the voluminous armoire was unquestionably the superstar in the room.

"We won't stay long 'Chonne," Sasha began, "we just wanted to check in on you and make sure everything was okay…with Andre gone we thought that you might be getting lonely."

Michonne really did miss Andre, but she was embarrassed to admit that she hadn't missed him as much as she probably should. The last two nights of talking to Rick on the phone were refreshing and it's something that she knew she would not have felt comfortable doing with Andre in the house. But she did appreciate that her friends were thoughtful.

"I appreciate you guys thinking of me, but I was in bed so..."

"You can have one glass of wine with us and then we'll leave—we never got to give you a birthday toast." Rosita said as she handed the second bottle of wine to Glenn to open.

Maggie reached for a tamale while Glenn opened the bottle, "we almost had Carol convinced to come but with Sophie coming in from school this weekend; she's headed to the store to buy out their baking isle." She laughed, "She'll be baking for the next couple of days—"

"So anybody who's tryin' to watch their figure is shit out of luck." She added with a whiff of annoyance.

"We asked Daryl to come…" Rosita said in the middle of a snicker, "he grunted something that sounded like stupid asses…so we had to assume that that meant no." They all laughed.

"I swear you and Carol are the only ones that can understand most of the shit that he says." Sasha continued the small laugh fest with tears in her eyes.

"Yes…there _is_ a special skill you must possess to have a successful conversation with Dixon…you guys just aren't smart enough to do it…" she smiled and gave them the side eye.

Maggie chimed in, "Tara had to get home—Denise is finally off work and they wanted to spend some quality time together, but hopefully sometime over the weekend we can all get together."

Michonne took a seat by Glenn, momentarily ignoring the women, "how are you doing—I haven't seen you this whole week. I know law school is probably kicking your ass," she knowingly declared. All the women gave him a low-spirited smile.

"Yes, it's been a lot—and working at the firm part time has been hard – he offered with a tired sigh - I haven't worked with Carol too much this week, but it looks like I'll be going with you to meet with the superintendent guy Martinez on Monday." He said as the cork popped out of the bottle.

Michonne smiled and rubbed his shoulder, "that's good—I'm glad you're going. Your instincts are almost as good as Daryl's, so I'll be interested to see what you think of him."

Rosita poured everyone wine and as each person took their glass of wine while everyone took a seat at the table. It was a comfortable silence as the group began to partake of their wine.

"Okay 'Chonney," Sasha began, "all day you said you'd tell us later…well now _is_ later, so tell us what's going on with the deputy?"

Maggie looked over at Sasha with a slight smile, "I thought we were gonna ease into that…" she chastised Sasha.

"Well—we don't want to be here all night; we just want a little of the details." Sasha shot back.

Michonne had been thinking about how she was going to start the conversation with her friends. After everything that happened lately it seemed like the most inopportune time to begin a new romantic relationship; she felt weird and somewhat guilty to be talking about such things while delving into the murder of her father.

"I said later…I didn't say later tonight," Michonne said as she both giggled and glared at her uninvited visitors.

"It's late 'Chonne…so what's going on?" Rosita said.

Michonne picked up her glass and took a sip of wine while she figured out the best way to address this. Was this something that she wanted to talk about? Was this something she was ready to admit out loud? _No time like the present._

"He called me on Saturday and invited me to coffee," she blurted out while assessing the reactions of her friends.

Maggie coughed mid swallow – Glenn reached over and patted her back. Rosita was the first to express "Wow!" Before anyone else had the opportunity to express the same sentiment.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sasha inquired, "I mean—why didn't you tell us?" she repeated.

"Yeah," Maggie interjected after she recovered from her mini cough attack.

"I just needed to think about it first. I was trying to figure out how I felt about it before I said it out loud to anyone," she answered sipping her wine – avoiding eye contact.

Maggie looked at Michonne in an attempt to get her attention and see her eyes, "what's there to think about sweetie? Obviously there was an attraction between you both—and if he asked you out, then what's there to think about?" Asked and answered.

"It's just—it's just weird. I mean with everything going on—it's just weird."

"What's so weird Chonney? You're a woman and he's a man…and you're attractive and he's attractive…so what is there to think about?" Sasha said as she reached over and touched Michonne's other hand.

"It's just the timing's...not right," Michonne offered almost apologetically.

"The truth is that there's probably never gonna be a right time to start a relationship. There's always gonna be something. Andre will need you… and then he'll start dating…and then you'll be preparing for him to go to college…then you'll be planning his marriage…then his divorce…" she stopped and they all laughed, "c'mon, you know that kids gettin' divorced—he's a divorce waiting to happen," she prophesized as they all laughed louder.

"I'm going to ignore that rude comment about my son," Michonne said while still laughing at her friends' psychic prediction.

Glenn used the temporary laugh-o-rama to address Michonne, "you need to start your life and this is a perfect segue into that." He said with serious inflection.

"I'll drink to that Glenn," Rosita chimed in.

Maggie looked over at her 'boyfriend' then back at the girls, "from the mouth of babes," she smirked.

All the women laughed further.

"Yeah, from the mouth of your babe…"

"What's the real problem?" Rosita inquired following Glenns serious tone.

Michonne and Rosita had not addressed what happened the other night in the office. Both women knew that the other would prefer not to discuss it; the feelings were honest and heartfelt – not everything needed to be over analyzed.

"It's just been a while since I've dated." Michonne said with a doleful smile - taking another sip of her wine.

"Well," Sasha chimed in, "everything is pretty much the same as when you dated before— dinner, movie, and then, if he's really nice—the big thing goes into the little hole..."

"Oh my God Sasha!—you are so vulgar," Maggie said shaking her head.

"Okay," Glenn piped up, "if this is going to turn into one of those kinds of conversations I'm leaving."

"No— it's not going to turn into one of those conversations Glenn— I promise you," Michonne said looking at Sasha, "…and yes, I remember the big thing that goes into the little hole." She deadpanned facing Sasha.

"'Chonney, you were giggling like a school girl in the meeting." Sasha said.

Rosita, Glenn and Maggie all gave Sasha knowing glances - looking at her through eyes that said _you know you shouldn't have said anything_... _big mouth_. They turned to Michonne.

"What are you talking about…what about the meeting?" Michonne inquired; she honestly did not know what they were referring to.

It was at that time the others in the room realized that she really was unaware of her actions. The actions had apparently been so subconscious that they didn't register with her.

"What are you talking about?" Michonne inquired again, beginning to feel uncomfortable and awkward.

"Never mind," Maggie interjected.

"No what do you mean?" Looking at her friends with an incredulous stare.

"'Chonne," Maggie began, "we were all aware of your attraction to him—and his attraction to you."

It suddenly became clear to Michonne that her friends had picked up on something that she didn't even realize she was doing. A wave of embarrassment came over her in that instant - _how embarrassing_. _I must've made a spectacle of myself in front of everyone. What an idiot…_

As if reading her thoughts, Maggie continued to talk to her friend – who was now staring off into the distance sipping her wine—"you didn't do anything embarrassing. You like him, and he likes you, and that's all that we noticed."

Michonne was still staring off into the distance, fiddling with her necklace, "how embarrassing," she whispered to no one in particular.

"'Chonney, I didn't divulge what we observed to embarrass you— I just wanted you to know that we noticed it, and its okay. You're a beautiful woman…and for the first time since Mike, there's someone you are _actually_ attracted to…" Sasha reached for the bottle of wine and poured herself a new glass, "we were all just…really happy to see you like that - she stopped and looked over to Rosita - "plus he's fine as hell." They all began to laugh.

"I really do like him," she looked at her friends with a silent plea of understanding, "he's not just cute, he's just—really sweet. I feel like—like a school girl when we talk," she looked around the table at the several pairs of eyes staring at her, she smirked "but—he excites me in a way that is definitely not like a school girl—"

"Welp…that's it for me," Glenn said while standing up. The women broke into uncontrollable laughter.

oooooo

Riding to the station with Shane every morning was an adventure. Shane insisted on driving, which in laymen's terms meant 'say a prayer and hold on.' He broke procedural protocol every day –by using the siren - when cars slowed in front of him or inconveniences like red lights popped up.

"So, Michonne Ridoux, huh," he said glancing over at his childhood friend with a smirk.

Rick knew it was coming; to Shane's credit, it had almost been an entire day before he broached the subject, but there it was. Not quite twenty fours had passed since Shane saw the text that Rick sent to Michonne, but he knew that the questions and inappropriate comments were coming – inevitable like ticks on a junk yard dog's ass.

"Yeah," was Rick's one word reply.

Shane glanced back at his friend as he weaved through traffic.

"She's hot man," Shane said as he balled up his hand and hit Rick's leg with his fist - indicating his approval of this choice.

"You sure you can handle all that…" Shane chuckled.

Rick gave Shane an incredulous look and did not answer.

The truth is that Rick was unsure of this new relationship with Michonne. This was uncharted territory for him. He never dated a woman like her. It was everything about her. It was her background, her experiences, her strength. It was the cultural differences that he was sure existed between them. How could he give voice to those concerns?

Based on their conversations he knew that they had a similar temperament, sense of humor, and passion for their chosen professions - but was that enough? Would he be interesting enough for her? He had never dated a black woman. He'd never given it much thought, since his preferences had been the same his entire life. This was something new. This was different. It was different in every way.

The irresistible pull he had to her was also something he never experienced before, or had ever known with anyone else. He wanted every part of her. He wanted to know every part of her body. He did not want their relationship to become sexual too quickly, he was willing to wait, but he definitely did not want to. Yet another thing that he was guilt ridden and insecure about; he couldn't stop thinking about being inside of her. Was he objectifying her? They hadn't even mentioned sex in either of their conversations - but the thoughts were there.

"So when are y'all getting together?" Shane inquired

Rick ignored the question – deeply ensconced in his expanding doubts.

"Where you gonna take her?" He questioned again.

The insecurities were taking hold. As much as Rick did not want to go into a full long discussion with his friend, he knew that if anyone had experiences with a variety of different women, it would be Shane Walsh.

"We're meeting up for coffee tomorrow morning," Rick finally responded.

Shane just nodded his head. He looked over at his friend as he honked at the red Blazer in front of him - speeding into the other lane.

"Where are you gonna take her out after that…a real date?" He questioned.

"Actually, I wouldn't mind if you could give me some ideas on that…" He said, hoping not to convey his semingly juvenile doubts. However, this was definitely the opening to give voice to his uncertainty.

"You really don't know what to do…do you brother…" Shane smirked, "How long has it been since you've gone out on a date…and have you ever gone on a date with a woman like that fox…with a body like that?" He questioned while also stating what he knew to be an indisputable fact about his friends lack of diverse experience.

"Well," Rick started, "this _is_ uncharted territory for me…and to answer your other question it hasn't been that long since I've dated." He scoffed.

"So tell me what your ideas are for the date," Shane said ignoring his friends' tone.

"I'm really not sure, to be honest with you. I mean…what do you think?"

Shane took in his friends words and knew the words that weren't being said. He thought for a moment, wanting to phrase this in the most delicate way that an 'indelicate' man could phrase it…he looked over at his confused friend.

"You know…just because she's a black woman doesn't mean that she's different than any other woman you've dated in the past. All women pretty much like the same thing. She probably doesn't like that old stale country shit you listen to, but who knows, she just might…

\- _he glanced back over at Rick to see if he could read Ricks expression_ \- "when I go out with women I try not to make too many assumptions. Ask her what type of music she likes, then find a club around town—or even on the outskirts of town that has that type of music. Ask her what type of food she likes—maybe you can find a place that has both. Ask her what kind of movies she likes, and then look to see what movies are out that she might be interested in." He continued, aggressively making his way through the Atlanta traffic – _he was honestly considering using the siren…_

"…She's a beautiful woman, so I wouldn't pick a movie for your first date because you wanna be able to look at her—I'd say maybe some type of a dinner with music. Your dancing ain't too great, so I wouldn't pick a place that has dancing just yet. You don't wanna turn her off before she's even been turned completely on." He smirked hitting his friend on the leg again.

Rick feigned disinterest, but was taking mental notes of all his friends' words. In that short time he'd already decided that he would do a search on his phone as soon as they got to the station. He had never put this much time and thought into any impending date before. Impressing this woman was all he could think about. Well…almost all he could think about.

"I appreciate the advice brother—guess I'm just a little green," Rick admitted with a low chortle.

"It's all good…" another smirk, "…I was in that meeting, and just like everybody in that room, I saw what was going on between the two of you—and speaking of her friends—you'd better watch your back…" he stopped to laugh and get Ricks full attention, "they don't seem like the kinda folks that take too kindly to anyone messin' over their friend—and that grungy P.I. was lookin' at you like he'd already decided where he could hide your body," he laughed again hitting Rick's shoulder before continuing…

"In all seriousness—I'm happy for you—she seems like a good woman, and I know you're a good guy—just don't fuck it up."

oooooo

Abe, Shane, and Rick waited by Shane's desk for Tara to arrive. Their plan was to go over to the community center, run by Gabriel Church, first thing in the morning. Abe told Tara to be at the police department by 8:30 a.m. It was now 8:20 a.m. and Tara was walking through the door. The men observed Tara as she approached them. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail - she was wearing black slacks with low heels and a blue casual chiffon V-neck cuffed blouse. Tara was an attractive woman with a welcoming smile, but she had an air about her that said joke with me - but don't fuck with me.

"Good morning gentlemen," she said as she approached the desk they were currently congregating around. She continued, "Thanks for letting me tag along with you—we were going to meet with Mr. Church on our own, but this makes better sense—no sense in duplicating work right," She said smiling at the men. They all smiled and nodded in agreement.

"You're welcome," Abe stated with only a slight hint of annoyance, "the more the merrier."

Tara could sense Abe's trepidation, but she was already prepared for it. She and the rest of her team had discussed Mr. Abraham Ford at length. They agreed that though he knew his stuff, he would probably be a roadblock to them - if they allowed it. Tara was not going to allow it.

"I appreciate it," she stated glancing over at Rick who seemed distracted, "I'll follow you all over there in my car so that I can go back to the office when we're done…hopefully we'll be able to compare notes before going our separate ways," she proffered.

When the meeting ended last week, Tara was determined to take a closer look at Sheriff's Deputy Rick Grimes. The feelings of her dread lock wearing, sad eyed, stoically strong friend were of major consequence to her. She mentioned those concerns to the other ladies, but it didn't seem – at least not to her – that they held the same 'worry.' She cornered Darryl a couple of days after the meeting and asked him -point blank- if he was going to investigate the deputy; his grumbled non-answer, was her answer – he was.

Tara never hid who she was, not since high school. She was comfortable with her sexuality, and wrote off anyone who couldn't deal with it. When she joined _Blake, Pelletier & Brooks_ it was with the thought that she would do her job and reserve all her interpersonal relationships for off work hours. She never expected to find friends. She never expected to find a family. They accepted her. They made fun of her. They laughed with her. They never judged her. She didn't say it often, but she truly loved the ladies of the _Lipstick Dream Team_. Michonne was the one who formally invited her to be the final member of their group.

' _Okay Miss Chambler, you are officially a part of our little team. We're the Lipstick Dream Team' 'wait a minute…do lesbians wear lipstick.' 'You are so stupid Mags.' 'I'm sure some do…right Tara.' 'It doesn't matter; you don't have to wear lipstick to be a part of our team.'_

She already found out that he had been dating someone who worked at the courthouse. That didn't necessarily mean that he was leading her friend on, but she intended to make sure. She piggybacked on this meeting with Church to get a closer look at him.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Shane said, walking around his desk to pick up his note pad.

The group walked out of the door.

oooooo

 **Gabriel Church** was the Founder and Director of the ATL Community Center. Gabriel founded the community center one year after getting out of law school. He attended law school with Johnny Anthony; both men were intent on turning the world on its ear – Johnny would do it through working within the justice system and Gabriel would do it by working within the community. Life got in the way of them remaining in close contact after school, but they managed to meet up occasionally. Two days before Johnny Anthony disappeared, Gabriel contacted both Johnny and his co-counsel Milton Woods regarding some information he had on the Bob Stookey lawsuit.

"Mr. Church, you told the detectives that interviewed you after Mr. Anthony disappeared that you had a meeting scheduled with the attorney but he never showed up." Abe inquired as they sat in one of the small conference rooms located in the rear of the community center.

The ATL Community Center had grown over the last thirty years from a two room office; to two adjoining buildings located on one of the most bustling blocks in the heart of the downtown Atlanta area.

"But twenty years later, when you were asked about that meeting—the one that you said never happened—by Mr. Anthony's daughter, Michonne Ridoux, you said that Mr. Anthony met with you for only about ten minutes before he had to leave for another appointment." Shane asked with growing frustration – taking in the man's lack of desire to be forthcoming.

"So which is it Mr. Church?" Abe asked bluntly.

Gabriel Church was a man in his late fifties; average height, dark brown complexion, baldheaded with narrow dark eyes. His demeanor was calm, but his skepticism directed towards the men currently questioning him came through loud and clear. The room had quickly become tense with a very palpable distrust between the officers and the community center director. Tara observed the interaction silently.

"At the time, I didn't feel comfortable talking with the detectives. There was a lot of tension and mistrust between the community and the police – much like now. So I did not want to divulge to them that Johnny and I had met." He glared back at Abe.

"So what information did you have that you couldn't share with the detectives?" Rick asked taking note of the tension between the men.

Gabriel looked at Rick, "everyone in our community was watching the Stookey case very closely. The consensus was that he was being railroaded. A lot of people thought that it was because of his race—but I was given some information that it was more than that. There was collusion between someone in the school district and…" he trailed off and looked around the room. He stood up and ran his hand over his smooth head before turning around…

"Who did your source say the collusion involved, Mr. Church?" Rick inquired.

The community center director turned to face Rick, "I was told that it was someone close to Robert Stookey—it was eluded to that the person was a relative," he paused before taking a deep breath, "I always assumed that it was his wife, Barbara Stookey." He said relaying every bit of self-reproach and repentance he could possibly convey. Before continuing…

"When Johnny left, his colleague Milton Woods stayed behind. I gave all the information I had to him."

The team looked at each other. This case was becoming an even bigger puzzle than they first believed it would be; with pieces that didn't quite fit

oooooo

"Hey you," she said to Mike as she opened the door – he reached down to grab her for a hug - she reciprocated his greeting, "how are you?" she asked.

"I'm good—but I should be asking you that question." He replied.

Mike was flying to Texas in the morning to spend time with Andre and Patricia. Michonne and Mike agreed that he should visit the ranch to check on both her mother and their son. Both knew the importance of her remaining vigilant in regards to her father's case, so it was best that _he_ go and not her. Mike would be bringing Andre back when he returned in one week. _The precocious thirteen year-old was not happy about the prospect of leaving the ranch so soon – and he really didn't want to leave his grandmother._

"It's all kinda overwhelming, but I'm good," she admitted as they walked into the house.

"I'm sure you and your team are on it," he smiled, stopping to rub her shoulders, "I meant to check up on you this week, but it's been crazy at work." He said apologetically.

"It's okay," she told him as they walked up the stairs towards the bedrooms, "I packed up the things your son asked for," she said as they entered Andre's room.

Mike was such a good looking man. Through the years – except for those two times – she hadn't thought a lot about their sex life. However, today was the first time that she'd thought about it in nearly two years. She turned that part of herself off after their last 'hook-up.' _Damn, I hope my mind doesn't go there every time I'm in close proximity to a good looking man._

"What's wrong?" Mike questioned – noticing the sudden change in her demeanor, "Where'd you go?"

"Huh…" she wondered.

"You're preoccupied with something—I mean—I get it. I know there's a lot going on." He offered.

She turned towards the window – fiddling with her necklace. Mike knew the signs.

"What's up?" He inquired again, "did something else happen. Are you still meeting with that school superintendent on Monday?"

"Oh—yeah. It's fine." She responded, still focused on the window but not paying much attention to the outside.

Mike walked over to Michonne and lightly touched her arm to get her attention. She turned around to see concern in his eyes.

"I'm fine Mike—really," she lied.

"What is it…or should I say who it is?" he questioned with a small grin.

"What?" she was surprised that he could still read her so well.

"'Chonne, we've known each other our entire adult lives—I know when you're interested in someone. I picked up on it last week, I just wasn't sure until now…" he looked up attempting to tap into his memory, "actually I noticed it when you came to my house last Friday after the meeting." He offered.

No response. She walked over to Andre's suitcase and began to zip it up.

"'Chonne—who?" He asked with more fervor, "The distant look you have—damn I haven't seen it in years. You're over analyzing it…"

"Mike," she snapped, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Yes you do." He said while backing her up to take a seat on their son's bed.

They sat in silence while Michonne gathered her thoughts. She knew that Mike was probably the best person to talk to about her insecurities, but it was still…weird.

"Yes, there is someone that I—kinda like," she admitted.

"Good." He said smiling and knocking her on the back.

"Mike stop!" she snapped, slapping him playfully.

"So, who is it?" he questioned, finally getting eye contact, "c'mon, tell me."

She broke eye contact and looked down at her hands, "It's the sheriff's deputy, Rick Grimes, I met him at the meeting," she said in an unsure whisper.

Mike didn't respond. She continued looking at her hands, "I barely know him—I mean, I only met him last week—but I think I really like him."

Mike stood up to figure out an appropriate response. _Wow…I'm not even sure what to say._

"Mike?" She looked at him and his lack of a response. She would never admit it to anyone, except maybe Mom Jacqui, but his opinion always meant a lot to her. He was the only person who knew that she'd only ever had sex with him. He was the only person who knew her in _that_ way. So without even saying a word, he'd know why she was so nervous.

"I just never imagined you with a white southern cop." He said.

She felt an immediate sense of deflation.

He looked at her face and instantly recognized the look in her eyes and knew he'd made a mistake.

"Look 'Chonne, I shouldn't've said that. I didn't mean it as any type of judgment." he walked back to her and sat down.

"I've seen you alone for all these years, and this is the first time you've mentioned anyone to me – he reached over to her and lifted her chin – someone you actually like. I think this is more than just a little something—you're not a casual kind of person. I think you really like this guy—it doesn't matter that you haven't known him long."

She smiled at him, hating the fact that for some reason, she was getting emotional. He stroked her cheek.

"I know my opinion doesn't really matter—and it shouldn't matter, but I'm going to say this. You know I have no love for cops—especially these racist redneck ass cops around here - _he smiled at her_ \- but from what he said when me and Andre met with him, he left his job as a detective to work with that program…" he chuckled before continuing…

"...he stopped working to put black folk in jail…to work with the youth...to try and keep them from going to jail…that makes him a pretty good guy in my book anyway." He stopped to gauge her reaction. She smiled softly.

"I don't think he has any confederate flags hanging around in his house, so I think you should give this a shot, and I hope he is the good decent guy that he comes across as. Plus - _he squeezed her shoulder_ \- Andre grilled the guy like a piece of fish, and he still sat there being nice—not a hint of anger or frustration at our kid—who you know can drive anybody crazy." They both laughed.

"Do you think it's—inappropriate—everything going on with my dad's case; him working with Andre?" She asked. That wasn't really where her apprehension was coming from, but she didn't want to address the other thing.

"You are an incredible woman who's been alone way too long. He's a decent guy who won our son over without really trying—he was just being himself. You deserve the same amount of happiness as everybody else—even if your father was found under a school – _he gave her a side eye smirk and bumped her shoulder_ \- So no, I don't think it's inappropriate."

"You're a good guy you know that—I'm glad we're friends," she bumped him back.

"So—let's get to the real reason that you're so preoccupied." he said looking her in the eyes.

"What are you talking about?" She questioned already knowing the answer. Mike knew her, probably better than anyone; he wasn't going to willingly let her get away with half-truths.

"It's not because he's white, it's not because he's a cop, it's not because of Andre, and it's not because of your father—"

"Okay, I think we're done with this conversation," she interrupted as she began to rise from the bed.

He reached for her and pulled her back down, "its sex 'Chonne."

"Mike, we are not having this conversation…"

"I think we should—who better to have it with?" He asked.

"Mike…"

"'Chonne, I know you haven't done _it_ since we were together last year."

"Mike—we said we'd never talk about that—Ever. I never even told the girls about that."

"I'm surprised—knowing all your meddling friends." He chuckled, reaching for her arm.

"Maggie found out about the time after the divorce, but I never told anyone about last year. That was a really low point for me…"

"Thanks a lot."

"You know what I mean…you'd just broken up with that girl and I allowed myself to be a booty call," she said shaking her head.

"You could never be just a booty call 'Chonne," he smiled and bumped her shoulder again.

"'Chonne," He stopped to get her attention, "I wanna be really serious and really honest right now—

"Don't Mike—I—I—don't want to hear it." She snapped, shifting her body – both needing to and not wanting to hear what he was insisting on telling her.

"I know you like sex—a lot—I know how much you really enjoyed it. You're incredible by the way. And, your body is even better now than it was when we first got together—"

"Mike," she huffed preparing to stand again.

"It's true—I always enjoyed it with you. But—it's like you were always embarrassed that you enjoyed it. Like you didn't think you should enjoy it. You always held back – _he smiled as a memory flooded back_ – except the couple of times that you stop thinking and just went with it." He stopped and stood up, looking at her shifting uncomfortably.

"I can feel the sexual energy jumpin' off of you right now—damn," he chuckled, "looks like that deputy has unlocked something that you locked up a long time ago." He leaned down and stroked her face. He was becoming aroused – his body was betraying the determination he had to never go there with her again. The memory of how good she felt came back with a vengeance - _Refocus Mike…Sherry…Focus. Your girlfriend Sherry…Focus._

"Don't hold back 'Chonne. You are a very sexual being—even though you _tried_ not to be…" he stepped back from her.

"That white boy cop son-of-a-bitch is one lucky dude…" he laughed, "damn girl—stop actin' like it's the end of the world," he said taking in the look on her face, "this is a good thing."

As much as she didn't want to talk to Mike about sex - namely her sexual hang ups - for the first time in days, she felt a sense of relief. He had put into words everything that she couldn't say. He was right. Something in her was too – uptight – to really let go sexually. She was bashful when they first became intimate, and restrained when they began having sex. She knew that was one of the reasons he cheated – the first time.

"Was I right 'Chonne—about all your weird nervousness?" he asked already knowing the answer.

"Yes," she admitted, "I feel so stupid."

"I know I made a lot of mistakes when we were married. I was young—it's not a good excuse, but it's true. We should've talked more and tried to work on—all of that… _his eyes once again finding hers, acknowledging his past sins and again begging for forgiveness…_

"…you could never be stupid…just don't break the guy when you back that thang up on 'em…okay," he laughed.

"Shut up."

oooooo

"How was your day?" Rick asked lying in bed. He'd been looking forward to talking to her all day. Her voice simultaneously excited and relaxed him.

"It was good—strange, but good," she said snuggling in her bed. Between the conversation with the girls last night and Mike today, she was beginning to think that maybe she could embrace this, without cold feet.

"Strange how?" he inquired.

"Nothing really," she said avoiding his question, "Mike is going leaving for Texas in the morning to spend a week with Andre and my mom, then he'll be back with my inquiring child," she shared.

"Oh—so does that mean no more late night talks," he chided, hoping that wasn't the case.

"I hope not."

"I hope not too—I've grown accustomed to hearing your sweet voice before I go to sleep," he said almost suggestively.

"Is that right," she questioned.

"Yeah—the voice of an angel," he said, holding back the other things that her voice did to him.

"You're so sweet Rick. I can't believe you're actually real. I'm really looking forward to seeing you in the morning," she giggled.

"You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to seeing you—and I can promise you that I'm real."

"I'll see you in the morning, Rick."

"Sleep well…I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

A/N - Thank you for reading. It's about to get _very_ involved. Please take a moment to let leave a review and let me know what you think.


	8. Chapter 8 - Coffee and Dinner

**Author's Note:** **We'll be taking a complete departure from the Anthony and Stookey cases in this chapter. Pure Richonne :-) Enjoy**

* * *

 **Chapter 8 – Coffee and Dinner**

"Hey baby girl." Jacqui greeted, "I'm glad you called—we haven't spoken all week."

"I'm sorry about that, it's been a crazy week—as you can imagine." Michonne responded, knowing that the statement was more of an admonishment than a casual comment.

"I thought maybe you were angry at me. Figured that's why you haven't call." Her ex-mother-in-law proffered.

Michonne, knowing where the senior Mrs. Ridoux was going with her comment, "Why would I be mad at you?"

"I'm sure that you've spoken with your mother and she told you about our conversation. I didn't want you to think that I've been keeping secrets from you all these years—but it wasn't my secret to tell. It was for her to talk to you not me." Jaqui explained.

"I know that Mom and I'm not mad at you – she sighed - I wish that she felt comfortable enough to talk to me. But, I guess that's been our problem my whole life. She always picks and chooses what she wants to tell me."

"Hopefully now that you've spoken, you have a better understanding of why she is the way she is." Jacqui said.

Michonne shook her head as she drove, remembering all the times that her mother never answered her direct questions about relationships in general; intimacy in relationships specifically.

"Yeah, I guess I do," she deadpanned.

"So how has everything been there?" Jacqui asked, wanting to change the subject.

"Everything's been crazy. We're all working to get dad's murder solved, but it's a lot to try and figure out. I really hope that we do. I hate the idea that someone is walking around after having murdered someone—my father." Michonne said, glancing at the time on the dashboard.

"Yeah baby I know. I know and I'm sorry."

There was silence on the line while Michonne thought about everything going on. However, she was more focused on getting to her desired destination on time.

"I talked to my little sweetie—he's having fun with Patricia there at the ranch. He wasn't too happy about having to leave at the end of the week." The loving grandmother expressed.

"Well, hopefully he won't give his dad too much stress over it. But I'm glad he's enjoyed being there."

With everything going on, Michonne felt oddly uncomfortable about disclosing her current situation, though she knew she would. Her relationship with her mother-in-law, during and after her marriage, had always been very open.

"So where are you heading right now?"

"Actually I kind of have a date this morning—I'm meeting him for coffee."

"Really!" Jacqui shrieked, "Why am I just now hearing about this?"

"I was going to tell you about it, but I've been trying to figure the whole thing out myself."

"So tell me about him—where'd you meet him?"

"He's a sheriff's deputy, and I met him when we started working on dad's case. I don't know him very well but he's nice." Michonne said.

"I'm glad for you sweetie. It's been so long since you dated—I was getting worried." She chuckled.

"That's sooo funny—it's amazing to me that so many people are interested in my dating life. Between you and the girls and Mike, I feel like my dating life is on everyone's agenda." Michonne laughed sarcastically.

"You talked to Mike about this new guy?" She inquired.

"Yeah, I actually had a talk with him yesterday." The younger Mrs. Ridoux responded.

"I hope he didn't say anything stupid. I know my son." She laughed.

"No—he didn't say anything stupid. He was actually very encouraging. Honestly I'm a little nervous—that's kind of why I called you. I just needed to ease my nerves before I get to the café."

"You are a beautiful _beautiful_ girl sweetie. _You is kind…you is smart…you is impOtant_ ," she said in her best Viola Davis voice from _The Help_ , laughing nearly uncontrollably.

"Oh My God! Why do I even bother?" She chuckled, "You're just as bad as everybody else."

"No—seriously honey, go in there and wow that deputy. But I want all the details—and I want you to snap a picture of him when he's not paying attention—and text it to me."

"I am so not doing that. That's way too weird. Plus—it's weird that you asked me to do that. You are supposed to be the mature one here." They both laughed.

"OK—so I'll do it when he's not paying attention." They laughed some more.

xxxxxx

Rick arrived at _The Coffee Table_ twenty minutes early. It was a small café on the outskirts of the city. He had chosen this particular café because it was casual, private, and he knew the food, as well as the coffee, was good. He was nervously excited about seeing her again. Though they had only met just over a week ago, he felt as if he'd known her for years.

"Good morning sir," the hostess greeted, "will it be a table for one today?" she asked.

"No, I'm expecting someone shortly," Rick responded.

"Would you like to be seated, or wait for your guest?" The blonde haired exuberant hostess inquired.

"I'll wait, thank you." He replied.

Rick could not remember the last time he'd felt this way. Probably not since high school. The anticipation, nervousness, the bubbling desires - feeling both good and bad at the same time.

He turned towards the glass entry doors of the café and peered out to the parking lot. He opened the door as an elderly couple entered. They smiled at him nodding their head with gratitude for his kindness. He nonchalantly paced the foyer of the eatery.

xxxxxx

Michonne pulled into the parking lot of the café. She planned to be earlier but she'd taken so much time deciding what to wear that the time got away from her. She tried on four different outfits before deciding on her current attire. Then, she couldn't decide whether to wear her hair up or wear it down - then when she decided to wear it up she couldn't decide whether to put it in a bun or gather it into a ponytail. She couldn't decide whether to wear flat sandals or sandals with heels.

All of the decisions, and indecisions as it were, set her back. She believed in being early, not just on time to all appointments, but as she checked the time in the car again, she saw that she was only five minutes early. There was no doubt in her mind that Rick was already there, but she had no idea what type of car he drove. Michonne exited her car after checking the state of her make-up.

Rick scanned the parking lot and saw her exit her car. Her car suited her. It was a black Audi A4. He opened the cafe door and walked towards her. She was beautiful; her dark brown skin shimmered under the sun. She was wearing a lilac short sleeved casual loose T-Shirt mini dress. Her breast delicately spilled from the V-neck. The dress stopped right above her knees. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail with a few of her locs out in the front - framing her face. He could see the subtle red lipstick on her heart shaped lips. She was wearing sunglasses and smiling as they approached each other.

There he was - walking towards her. She had forgotten how handsome he was. He had a bowlegged stroll; wearing dark jeans with his signature cowboy boots. He was wearing a dark brown t-shirt that fit his body so well she thought he must've had it tailor-made. Though he was not overly buff, he had a very athletic body – chiseled features. His dark brown hair was curly, but sweat had caused the curls to lazily lie down. She languidly thought about what it would feel like to run her fingers through his hair. He was smiling at her as they approached each other.

"Good morning," he said as he walked up and grabbed her for a hug. His breath hitched as he took in her scent. She smelled like vanilla and with a hint of lavender – _God, your body feels so warm._

"Good morning to you, deputy," she said returning his embrace - _you smell so good_. _Like a meadow, clean, musky – what is that scent? My goodness, your body is so hard._ She tried not to linger on his amazing scent and incredible body.

They ended the embrace, both smiling.

"You look beautiful," he said attempting not to gawk.

"Thank you," she said lightly touching his arm.

"You look pretty nice yourself," she responded.

"It's good to see you again," he smiled and winked, "let's go inside," he suggested.

They began walking towards the entrance to the diner, making casual conversation about the unusually hot summer as they entered the air-conditioned establishment. The hostess led them to their table. Rick stepped ahead of Michonne to pull out her seat. She smiled, and thanked him for chivalrous act.

"Have you ever been here before?" She questioned, "It's very nice."

"Yes—a few times. It's one of my favorite places to bring my son. It's quiet and out of the way, so we're usually able to have pretty good conversations without running into all of his little friends," he chuckled.

"Well, thank you…I feel honored that you suggested coming here," she smiled graciously.

"No thanks needed—I'm glad you like it." He said as the waitress approached.

They ordered their beverages and began to peruse the menu.

Rick began, "I know what you said in the meeting, but I still wanted to make sure that I tell you -again- how sorry I am about your father. I know this can't be the easiest time for you." He said sympathetically while staring into her large brown eyes.

"I appreciate that. I'm actually—I don't know. I guess I'm happy to have the resolve and have so many people in my life that want to help me figure everything out." She replied.

They took turns sneaking looks at each other while they chatted about multiple topics. Rick took this as his opportunity to find out about his breakfast companions musical, movie and extra-curricular tastes.

"I promise I'm not a stalker," he joked, "you promised me a date—a real night time date and I don't wanna go somewhere that you wouldn't like," he said grinning at her.

"You're so sweet, Rick," she said smiling flirtatiously, "I'm sure that any place you pick will be nice."

"I'm glad that you have so much faith in my ability to know what I'm doing...you're a beautiful and cultured lady...I'm really just an ole country boy." He laughed.

"I doubt that Rick," she said smiling in a non-overtly flirtatious manner.

The conversations continued and flowed the same as they had during their late-night phone conversations. The two fairly nervous divorcees were both comfortable and excited. Neither were making any movements to leave the table. The server came by first to ask them if they needed anything else. The server returned to the table every ten minutes or so to check on them. Once the server came by for the seventh time Rick looked at his watch.

"I didn't realize we had been here for so long. I probably should let you go." He said, though he made no movements to leave the table.

"Well, I'm kinda hoping you don't let me go _this_ soon Rick." She said, and then laughed at the way her comment must have sounded to him.

"I don't think that came out the way I meant it—I mean, you're not keeping me from anything, but you're always so considerate—so thank you." She said, acutely aware that his assumptions behind the meaning of her words were correct.

"You're welcome-and no, I don't have any intention of letting you go -he paused and looked her in the eyes- anytime soon." He finished.

An awkward silence took hold of the air surrounding them in that moment. There wasn't just an awkwardness, there was sexual tension that both had experienced; unbeknownst to the other, on the phone each night they spoke. His blue eyes looked into her brown. She fidgeted in her seat. It was the first time that both became aware of the others feelings in regards to their sexual connection. They had never broached the subject. They talked about everything but sex. Though their conversations included speaking about their exes, neither talked about _that_ part of their previous adult relationships. Rick could feel that he was becoming excited as they stared into each other's eyes. He was also becoming uncomfortable.

"Excuse me," the waitress interrupted the unbreakable stare fest, "I'm gonna just leave the check here. There's no rush, but I'm going on my break and I wanted to make sure to say thank you for coming in." She said.

"Oh-uh-thank you." Rick said breaking eye contact with Michonne.

"You're welcome, and have a wonderful day, both of you." She said as she turned and walked away.

Rick looked back at Michonne who was scrolling through her phone. She looked back up at him. "I really had a good time Michonne," he said smiling again at her.

"I did too Rick—this was really nice, thank you for inviting me," she said.

"So I realize it's a little soon, but you promised me a date if this went well—it seems like this went well -he smiled arching an eyebrow - what do you have planned for the rest of the weekend?" he asked.

"Nothing really. With Andre gone I was going to just lie around—probably watch a movie and start cleaning out both his closet and mine."

"That sounds really exciting, but if you're able to tear yourself away from all that excitement, maybe you could consider going out with me on an actual evening date tomorrow night." Rick asked joking sarcastically while peering into her eyes.

"I don't know Rick," she said with a giggle, "two days in a row—do you think you can handle that?" _I have a pretty good feeling that you can handle it quite well._

He looked her in her eyes, not allowing her to break eye contact, "yeah I think I can handle that," he said. He realized instantly how suggestive his statement was, but there was no way to reel in his words. _Damn, I probably shouldn't've said that._

Not allowing his words to go unchecked, "I sure hope so," she said, not backing down from the suggestively sexual tone their conversation had become.

"Good," he said. His tone no longer jovial – the intent very clear – "So, can I pick you up tomorrow night at seven?" he said with intent.

"Absolutely," she said smiling not breaking eye contact. "I'll text you my address."

"I already have it," he said, then caught the questioning look on her face, "I don't mean that in a stalkerish way—I have your address because Andre's in the program," he corrected.

They both laughed finally breaking the sexual tension that head permeated their space.

Rick picked up the check, stood up, and walked over to Michonne's side of the table offering her his hand. He paid the check and they exited the café. They strolled to Michonne's car in the hot Georgia heat. _The awkwardness again taking over the atmosphere surrounding them._

She fished the keys out of her purse as they approached her car – she pushed the unlock door button on her remote. Rick reached over and opened her door. Without saying a word he took her hand leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, lightly brushing by her lips. The corners of their lips touched - he lingered there for a few moments before pulling back.

"I really enjoyed spending this time with you Michonne." He said again looking into her eyes.

"I did too. It was really nice," she said not breaking eye contact.

"I'll be at your house tomorrow night at seven." He confirmed.

"Okay, I'll be ready," she said, "is there any particular way I should dress?"

"I'm imagining that you look good in everythang." He said, again ignoring the suggestive nature of his comment.

She smiled, "Actually, what I was talking about was whether or not I should dress casual or a little dressier."

"Casual should be fine," he said taking her hand.

"Okay, I guess I'll see you tomorrow at seven." She said as she sat down in the driver seat of her car.

"Goodbye Rick," she said she closed her door then reached over and put down the driver side window.

Reaching into the car he again kissed her on the cheek. _God he smells so good_. He leaned back and allowed her to put the window back up.

xxxxxx

He had spent the last few hours making sure that his plans for the night would go off without a hitch. He'd found a dinner theater in the heart of Atlanta. Through his conversations with Michonne, he found out that she really enjoyed the theater, but rarely went because she was either working, or doing something 'Andre related.'

The show for this particular evening was a romantic comedy. He found out that many times audience members were pulled into the show by the actors. _She seems like the type of woman who would enjoy letting go and having fun – once she just let's herself go._ And, the menu included dishes that were Caribbean, soul, country and traditional American to name a few. He figured that with such an open and eclectic menu, they would both find something that was both acceptable and pleasing.

He couldn't help but think about the most recent dates he'd had with Jessica. The dates he'd taken her on were never well thought out. They went to the movies, to the skating rink and to a few restaurants. _She deserved better._ His loneliness had been undeniable and he was pretty sure that women, maybe even insightful men, could see his longing as clearly as one would any blinking neon sign. She had come onto him. She made it very clear that she was interested. She was attractive…and she was in need, like him. Had he taken advantage of her or was it the other way around?

Most of their dates were at her house when her son was with his father. They would have sex and then he would head home. She never seemed to mind – _she had asked me to spend the whole night a few times though…why did I always say no?_

He knew that she didn't deserve to be treated that way, but he had missed sex – he wanted it. The amount of times he'd had sex with his ex-wife before they finally separated had been so minimal that he could count them on one hand. It was a release that he missed. Jessica offered that release. She made the first move.

 _She probably needed the release as much as I did. We both got something out of it. Why do I feel like such an ass?_

 _One things for sure, I won't make that mistake this time. We'll take it slow. She might not even be interested in sex with me. Damn, what if she really doesn't think of me that way? What do I even know about a woman like that? I'm sure that was flirting earlier. Maybe flirting doesn't mean 'I'll drop my panties for you' –_ he laughed _– Damn, I hope she doesn't just drop her panties – I want to take them off of her…with my teeth –_ he laughed again _– All I want is to be inside that woman…No…Not This Time! Reel it in deputy._

The humidity that had been gripping the city of Atlanta for the last few weeks had finally dissipated. As Rick pulled up to Michonne's house he noticed that the night weather was perfect. He shook his head to rid himself of all the impure thoughts that had taken hold in his mind and got out of his car.

xxxxxx

She opened the door to see him standing there holding a bouquet of roses. The butterflies began to flutter all over again. Michonne had spent the last hour doing everything she could to not focus on her nervousness. She'd spoken with her mother about nothing in particular and fielded calls from three of her inquisitive friends regarding her coffee date – "we'll talk later…but it was really nice." - She did thirty minutes of yoga to focus her energy, and center her thoughts. She was ready and able…until she opened the door.

"Hi there," he said handing her the roses and kissing her on the cheek. There was overwhelming warmth as he took in her scent. "You have a very nice home here," he complimented as he stepped away from the intoxicating aroma surrounding her.

"Thank you Rick—and thank you for the roses—they're beautiful." She said smiling but attempting to avoid direct eye contact.

"Not nearly as beautiful as you – he stepped back further to take in a full view of the woman standing before him – you look incredible." She was wearing a blue floral backless spaghetti strap Bodycon Club dress with low heeled sandals.

She smiled, stepping back further, "flattery will get you everywhere Rick," she replied flirtatiously.

"Um—let me go and put these in water then we can head out," she said as she turned to walk towards the kitchen.

xxxxxx

The ride to the restaurant was both comfortable and slightly awkward – both deep in their thoughts, not sure how to express the feelings that were growing faster than bacteria in the petri dish of a science lab.

They did the easy – comfortable – thing.

"…I don't know what to think about Arat Jarrod or Gabriel Church—and I really don't know what to think about Barbara Stookey. She is definitely not being completely forthright." Rick speculated as they sped down the highway towards the restaurant.

"You're right. Rosie and I got the same impression from Barbara Stookey when we met with her. She's hiding something. Hopefully we'll get some more clarification when we meet with Cesar Martinez tomorrow." She replied glancing at him – the fluttering butterflies were taking control. She shifted in her seat – sitting in his car with his scent permeating the air was nearly overpowering. She could feel the throbbing. She shifted again.

They arrived at the _Melting Pot Restaurant_ and were seated. Rick wasn't sure whether or not to take her hand as they approached the door, but her continual fiddling in her purse made it easy for him to make the decision to put his hands in his pockets as they walked.

Michonne was the good sport he assumed she would be when she was beckoned to the floor – center stage –by one of the actors.

Their conversation was both random and poignant, "…yep—she wanted me to snap a picture of you and text it to her," they continued to laugh at the loving absurdity of some of the individuals in their private lives.

"…I think you missed your calling as an actress," he said laughing. The actors had her playing along with them for most of their performance.

"Just the fact that you said that mid laugh makes me think that you're probably not being honest about that—I think I'll stick to the law," she said giving him a knowing smirk.

The dinner was a culinary success for both. Coffee and dessert extended the date.

"This is a really nice place Rick—I think you've proven that you have quite the knack for picking restaurants," she expressed as they exited the establishment.

He took her hand. They interlaced their fingers as they slowly traversed towards his car.

xxxxxx

The drive to her house was comfortable with lots of playful banter. He began to get a little nervous – not exactly sure if this was the proper time to begin any type of intimacy. They arrived at her abode. After opening the passenger side door they strolled towards her door. They walked slowly, not speaking. The weather had cooled significantly, leaving behind a refreshing breeze. They ascended the two steps to her front door.

"I had so much fun. You really know how to show a girl a nice time." She told him while staring into his cerulean eyes that were currently darker than usual.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself—I really enjoyed being with you. Your taste in food is a little weird, but you laugh at my corny jokes—so I think I'll keep ya'," He said before taking a moment to think about his words. He smiled, "Did that sound a little weird?" He snickered nervously while staring at her.

"It didn't sound weird—I'm kinda hoping that you'll keep me," she flirtatiously said with no hint of embarrassment.

He stepped closer to her. He reached down and took her other hand- interlacing their fingers. Neither said anything for several moments. They stood in each other's personal space, able to fully take in the scent of the other.

"You smell so good…it's almost hard for me to think." He shared, not removing his eyes from hers. "What kind of perfume is that? I wanna be sure to make note of it as my most favorite smell…ever." He laughed huskily.

"It's—uh— _My Burberry_ ," she stuttered nervously, "Glad you like it."

"I love it," he whispered huskily as he stepped one foot closer to her.

She giggled and looked down, away from his stare. He removed his right hand from her and moved one of her stray dread locs from her face; placing it behind her ear, brushing her face with the back of his hand...she looked up…back into his eyes.

"It's been a long time since I've felt this way about anybody," he admitted, "I really enjoy being with you—talking to you."

"I feel the same way," she concurred, twirling his right hand with her left. He stepped closer.

"I know this is gonna sound really presumptuous on my part, but, I'd like to take you out as many days this week as you'll allow me to," he confessed, "I figure that with Andre coming back at the end of this week and Carl coming next week, I won't have the chance to have you to myself much longer—I'd like to get to know you better—and I didn't even mention your friends."

"You're right about Andre—and the girls. They may be more difficult than him," she laughed, attempting to break the growing tension, "But yes, I'd like that. What days were you thinking of?"

He laughed, "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday…"

"You're funny deputy," she smiled, not looking away from him – acutely aware that he was being very serious.

"Can I admit something to you?" he asked…she nodded, "I've wanted to kiss you since we met—you have the best looking lips I've ever seen. I'm so drawn to you," He said while touching her face, looking deeper into her eyes.

She didn't move or speak. _Oh, my God. I can't breathe..._

He gently rubbed the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. She held her breath – unable to move.

"May I please kiss you, Michonne?" He asked in a whisper - now standing directly in front of her.

He moved his hands to her shoulders – gently grasping her. She gave him an affirmative nod – not breaking eye contact. He leaned into her, grabbing her lips with his. As their lips touched he took hold of her - her knees began to tremble. She was losing the ability to stand. He held her tighter. She parted her lips, opening her mouth to him – he parted his lips to receive her offering. Their tongues met and began a gentle rumpus. She held him tighter, slowly moving her right hand up his neck, landing in his lazy curls. He pushed his tongue further into her mouth. They were temporarily lost in the taste of the other.

xxxxxx

The kiss deepened. He pulled her closer – he could feel the pounding of her heart, and her nipples as they hardened. She smelled so fresh, so good – _thank you My Burberry_. _Your mouth taste so damn good -_ He began to rub her back…to squeeze her back. It was almost overpowering – the desire. He dropped his hands and lightly caressed her backside. His right hand dropped down and touched her leg. He slowly moved his hand up her right leg – under her skirt. _Damn her skin feels so damn good._ He rested his hand on her hip – under the elasticity of her panties. She offered no resistance.

She stepped closer into the kiss. _Oh baby, your body is so hard. You smell so good. The cologne - the Irish springy scent. Oh God…You feel so good._ She moved her arms up, resting on his shoulder as her hands - fingers – moved deeper into his hair. She played in his hair, slightly fisting his loose curls. The kiss became feverish. Her tongue swirled in his mouth – she began to suck his lower lip. _Damn…I could die right now you feel so good._

He left his right hand on her hip and moved his left hand up to the back of her neck. He gently stroked her neck as her locs rested on the back of his hand. He could smell her shampoo – coconut. His erection was undeniable – restrained by thin fabric and sheer will power. _I have to stop_. But then she began stroking his back.

"mmm…" she moaned into his mouth.

He eased away from the kiss and began kissing her neck. "ahhh…" she moaned as she threw her head back to give him more access. _Oh God…Don't Stop!_ She could feel how wet her panties were – soaked. _Damn that feels so good. Please don't stop…Oh baby, rub me there._ His unrelenting hard on pressed into her stomach.

He moved his hand from her hip and moved it to the crotch of her panties. _Fuck…she's so fuckin' wet._ He cupped her crotch with his hand and began squeezing. _I've gotta feel her – it – just one finger...maybe two_. She moved closer. He slid her panties slightly to the side to gain access to all the wetness. _Rick…Stop…!_

She opened her legs – just slightly – to give him full access. _Ahhh!_

 _Stop Damn it!_ He moved his hand – suddenly – and brought it back up to her back. He then broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. They were darker and wide. They were asking him – pleading with him. He brought his hands to her waist – she was still touching his arms.

He slowly backed up…cleared his throat and whispered in a husky voice …"You're so beautiful—" he stared into the willing eyes of this amazing woman. She wanted what he wanted. _I've never wanted anybody like this—every part of your body—No, I have to stop._

Her eyes were asking him – begging him to continue – "I…umm…think I'd…better head home…"

"Uh—okay," she agreed, struggling to regain her senses. _You feel so good…damn I wish you'd stay._

He reached his hand up to her face and lifted her chin. They stared into each other's eyes. Her eyes were clouded over. Her eyes were looking into him. He moved forward and grabbed her lips with his again. The kiss was softer but just as passionate. They parted their lips at the same time – their tongues found each other. He moved in to her again – holding her so tight – he was cognizant of everything; her breaths, her heart, even the blood flowing through the veins of her body. He could feel every curve of her breast – contradictingly firm and pillow soft - _I want to be inside of you so fuckin' bad…Stop Rick…Damn It!_

He let her go, looking down as he smiled and backed away, "Sorry—uh—can I see you tomorrow?" He asked.

She couldn't speak. He had quite literally taken her breath away – and with it the power to speak. She simply nodded and watched the bowlegged deputy turn towards the street and walk to his car – slightly shaking his head as he walked.

She stood on the front porch watching him walk away – this man that made her feel things she hadn't felt – ever. Her heart was still pounding and her knees wobbly as she opened the door and entered her home.

* * *

A/N - We're back to solving the case in the next chapter. I'd love your feedback on this installment. And, btw, check out my new story, The Bewitchin' Pool, if you're so inclined. The new chapter will be up in a few days. Thank you.


	9. Chapter 9 - The Fallout

**Author's Note: Much thanks to everyone for staying with this story and for all the reviews. A special shout out to RickysMichy for your inspiring messages. They are truly appreciated.** **We're back on the case(s). Enjoy...**

* * *

 **Chapter 9 - The Fallout**

Assistant District Attorney Andrea Harrison walked into the squad room. She looked around and spotted the three men she was there to see. She approached Officer Ford, Deputy Walsh, and Deputy Grimes.

"Good morning gentlemen. I just thought I'd come and check in—since no one's updating me on anything." She said sarcastically.

"Good morning Assistant District Attorney Harrison." Abe shot back with an equal amount of sarcasm.

"We haven't gotten in touch with you because we're still in the process of gathering information Andrea. We have more meetings scheduled this week, so maybe by the end of the week we can all get back together and compare notes." Shane spoke up.

"Well at least give me the information you have already. My boss is breathing down my neck. He wants to know where we stand with the Anthony case. He's not too happy that we're looking into the Stookey case again." She said looking into the faces of all three men.

"We're pretty sure the two cases are somehow connected Andrea, so you need to let your boss know that the best way to solve the Anthony case is to look into the Stookey case." Rick chimed in.

"Robert Stookey's death was officially determined to be a suicide by the Medical Examiner and the detectives on the case. No information was ever brought forth to change that. So we don't know how a suicide can be connected to this case." Her determination unwavering.

"Andrea, you were in the meeting along with the rest of us and you got all the same information we got from Michonne Ridoux and her team. I don't know how you can stand there and say there is absolutely no connection." Shane said, staring down the determined attorney.

"Yes, I was in the meeting, and nothing that I saw proved that there is a connection, other than the fact that some people were not completely truthful in their statements. It doesn't mean the cases are linked." She said, not breaking eye contact with Deputy Walsh.

"We disagree—so we're going to continue to do our job—if it's okay with you," Abe said, interrupting the short-lived standoff.

Andrea had no immediate comeback to Abe's declaration – she simply glared at him without verbally responding.

Rick felt a buzzing - he reached down into his pocket and took out the phone. He glanced down at the name attached to the incoming call.

"Excuse me," he said as he walked away from a small gathering. He swiped the screen, putting the phone to his ear as he walked.

"Hey there—good morning," he said smiling.

"Good morning deputy. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time," she said teasingly.

"I'm glad you called. It's never a bad time to hear your voice." He teased back.

"You're so sweet. I just wanted to tell you that I had a really good time last night. I decided not to just text you—plus, I wanted to hear your voice." Michonne was sitting at her desk. She and her team - specifically Carol and Glenn - were preparing to meet with Cesar Martinez at the school district office. She went to her office to make a quick call to Rick.

"Are you flirting with me ma'am—because it sounds like you're flirting with me," he flirted.

"Absolutely not—but you gave me a lot to think about last night after that kiss." She giggled, not caring in the least that she was not just flirting, but coming on to him. It's time to fully embrace this- whatever this is - between us.

Rick was momentarily at a loss for words. When he left her house last night he had a mix of emotions. He felt so good being with her, but was also embarrassed by his behavior. He had no intention of moving so fast and yet was unable to control himself. He wanted her in a way that he'd never wanted anyone else. It took every bit of self-control he could muster to stop himself. When he pulled up to his apartment all he could do was sit in the car. He wanted to go back to her house and finish what they started on her front porch. But, he wanted to take this relationship slowly.

"About that, I—uh—feel a little weird. I didn't intend to do—all that..." he stuttered.

"I know—but, I don't regret it. It was—incredible. You are a really good kisser." She said shifting in her top of the line well cushioned leather office chair.

"You're the one that's incredible—with incredible lips," he said, stepping into an empty office for more privacy.

"You felt so good. I'm just—"

"Yeah—I know," he interrupted, "I'd like to finish this conversation later—when I'm not standing here at the station," he chuckled, "don't need everybody here to see what you do to me."

"Sorry about that deputy," she laughed suggestively.

"I don't think you're sorry at all ma'am," he proffered with a chuckle.

They both laughed.

"'Chonne—you ready?" Glenn inquired, knocking on the door as he entered her office.

"Um—yes," she said to her younger colleague, "I'll be right there."

"Okay—we'll meet you down at Carol's car." He said leaving her office.

"Guess that's my cue," Rick said, "I need to start thinking about puppy dogs and rainbows—oh, and my sixty year old balding captain," Rick chuckled while trying to lessen his aroused manhood.

"Sorry again Deputy Grimes—call or text me later and let me know what you have planned for tonight," she said unable to stop laughing.

"I will—but I'm gonna say again that you don't sound very sorry to me." He laughed.

They released the line.

oooooo

Rick rejoined his colleagues. The contentious discussion had ended. Rick was also just in time to see Shane's shameless flirting with Andrea. He'd known Shane most of his life and was well aware of his moves when it came to women. Andrea did not appear to be rebuffing his advances in anyway. Her subtle giggling was the sure fire sign that she was interested. Rick was pretty sure that Shane wasn't really interested in Andrea - flirting was just part of his DNA - one he couldn't deny if a woman was in the vicinity. Rick had witnessed him flirt with teachers, his friend's mothers, their high school principal, and the unfortunate time he flirted with their friend Joe's grandmother.

"Thanks so much for joining us, Rick." Andrea stopped her giggling long enough to offer her snide welcome.

"Had some business to take care of," he stated, "did ya'll come up with a day for everyone to meet and compare notes."

"Yeah," Shane replied, "we called over to talk with Miss Ridoux, but we couldn't reach her…so we spoke with Maggie Greene and she put us on their schedule for this Friday. We'll meet at their office. Hopefully by then we've met with everyone on our trusty list." Shane said with a knowing smirk in Rick's direction.

"Okay, that sounds like a good plan," Rick said staring back at Shane, ignoring his smirk.

Rick and Shane had not spoken, directly, about Michonne since their conversation in the car. Shane was actually biding his time before bringing up his friends dalliances. Rick was hoping that the time did not come anytime soon. Rick was still figuring things out and didn't want Shane in his head. He knew where this was heading with Michonne. She was who he had been waiting for - maybe his whole life - of that he had no doubt. He just needed to get out of his own way. Not rush things sexually, take the time to know who she really is, and - the most important thing - keep Shane as far out of his business as possible.

"The other half of our team is meeting with Cesar Martinez this morning—and tomorrow we'll go to the retirement village where Jadis Palesky currently resides," Abe informed his team, "somebody from the firm will be meeting us there—they didn't say who."

"When are we going to meet with Milton Woods? Based on what Gabriel Church told us we know that he was given information about Barbara Stookey's possible involvement in her husband's case—we need to talk to him." Rick added as Abe handed him the phone records.

"I'll call again and try to set a meeting up with him later this week," Shane said.

Andrea dug through her briefcase and grabbed out a slip of paper. She looked down at it, and then handed it over to Abe.

"Speaking of Milton Woods, _-she grinned-_ this is information that our new partners - she exaggerated with air quotes - haven't shared with us," she said looking at all three men, before continuing "its information that I think Michonne accidentally—on purpose forgot to give us about her mother. According to sources that we have, Patricia Anthony was possibly involved with Milton Woods - she stopped to look at the men before continuing..."maybe they really don't know—but I doubt it. By now I think her mother has probably confessed her involvement with Mr. Woods. From what I've gathered, Michonne has always been really close with her mother," Andrea finished with a self-satisfied smirk.

"I think we need to be forthright with the others," Shane said while taking the paper from Abe's hand.

"Those are phone record print-outs that took place between the Anthony home and Mr. Woods' office at times when Johnny Anthony was not at home." Andrea shared.

"Who's your source?" Abe questioned, looking back up at Andrea.

"I'm going to keep our source private for the time being. That's the way my boss wants it." The A.D.A. admitted.

The men took in Andrea's words, and collectively without speaking, decided not to challenge her - at least not right now.

"Let's put all her cards on the table when we have the meeting on Friday—that's the only way we're gonna figure all this out." Shane said glancing between the papers and his colleagues.

No one said anything for more than a few moments then Rick spoke up...

"I agree. On Friday we put everything out there and see what we come up with," he said facing the blonde attorney – Shane handed him the phone records, "let's not make assumptions about what they know and don't know."

"I'm okay with that," Andrea concurred.

The group spoke for a while longer before Shane and Abe walked over to their respective desks. Rick began to walk towards the door. Andrea caught up with him and touched his shoulder to gain the distracted deputy's attention. Rick turned around to face the knowing smile of the attorney.

"So deputy," she began, "I hear you ended things with Jessica. Interesting timing," she stated questioningly.

"What do you mean about interesting timing, Andrea?" Rick asked with rising annoyance. Andrea's side glances at him during their short encounter had not gone unnoticed, but he had no intention of discussing his personal life with the nosey blonde attorney.

"I mean, it's pretty obvious that _something_ was going on with you and Michonne—you know—the murdered man's daughter, in the meeting last week. And now you end your relationship," sarcastic smirk on her face.

"Kinda' like what I said before Andrea—my personal life is none of your business," Rick said, cocking his head to the side with a half-smile.

"I know it's none of my business Rick, but I _do_ think it's inappropriate to get involved with someone that we have to work with on such a high profile case—one that's so public. At the very least it could be considered a conflict of interest," she deadpanned.

"Whose interest?" Rick said stepping closer to Andrea, "whose interest are you referring to?" Said with no pretense that this was a friendly conversation.

"This team we have Rick," she said, not backing down while motioning over to the squad room area.

"So, I'll end this where I started—my personal life is not your business—and it's not the business of your office," he turned and continued on his original goal of exiting the building.

oooooo

As much as Rick did not want to admit it - not even to himself - Andrea's words really hit home. He had been so conflicted in regards to Jessica that he didn't truly take into consideration the seriously inappropriate timing of this new relationship. _I refuse to allow her to face any public criticism. The idea of not being with her - No, I can't do that. But maybe we do need to slow this down._

He opened his car door to grab the notepad he had forgotten - his phone vibrated. He looked down to see an incoming text message.

 _Hope those puppies and rainbows worked for you...lol. Thanks for the smile that I can't get rid of. I haven't smiled this much for a long time. I'm probably gonna look like an idiot in front of this Martinez guy. Can't wait to see you tonight ;-)_

He laughed, as warmth that had nothing to do with the current temperature outside, began to rise in him. _I am a damn incredibly lucky guy._

He smiled and sent her a text as he strolled back into the building.

oooooo

The temporarily abbreviated version of their team – Michonne, Carol and Glenn - arrived at the school district office twenty minutes prior to the scheduled meeting. The school board president, Cesar Martinez, was retired from his previous career as a high school principal. School Board members who did not have regular employment were given an office at the district office to use on an as needed basis - if and when the need arose. It was an extended courtesy that Cesar Martinez did not take advantage of very often.

The School District Office Building, much like the Annex Building of the A.P.D., had recently undergone major renovations. Through Daryl's investigation and Rosita's contacts in the permit department, the team had found out that the work being done on all the buildings within the district was all part of a twenty million dollar grant that the school board had secured through the state. Information about the funds was public knowledge; all the strings attached to receipt of the funds was not.

The team was ushered into the empty general use office by the bespectacled dark haired receptionist.

"Dr. Martinez should be here soon," she informed, "can I get anybody a bottle of water?" She asked as she turned to leave the room.

"No thank you," Carol answered for the team. They took seats across from each other. Glenn pulled out two files from his valise.

Michonne took a moment to glance at her phone. She hadn't noticed that a text message had come in on their drive to the meeting. It was from Rick. She smiled and her stomach gave a little tremble as she swiped the screen.

 _You could never look like an idiot. You're way too beautiful. We can try a Mediterranean restaurant that I heard about. I can't wait to see you. Be at your place at seven._

"I have Cesar Martinez's statement from thirty years ago and the statement that he gave to you - _he said looking over to Michonne_ \- and Sasha ten years ago. I highlighted the areas where he contradicted himself. Then...I cross referenced them with Barbara Stookey's statement from last week. Based on yours and Rosie's notes, these - _he handed papers to both Carol and Michonne_ \- are the areas that you and Rosie said she was uncomfortable answering...where she was probably lying..."

"Glenn you're incredible. When did you do all this...you freaking little dynamo," Michonne glowered while Carol sat back with a smug smile plastered on her face.

"I worked on it last night," he smiled before continuing, "I think we need to focus on asking him these two questions - _he pointed to an area of the paper that Michonne had in her hand_ \- and catch him off guard...not giving him a chance to lie," he recommended.

Both Michonne and Carol took a moment to look over the papers that were now in their possession.

"I think you're right Glenn, that's a great idea," Michonne said.

"I agree," Carol concurred, "he knows we're here to discuss Johnny Anthony...he won't be expecting us to ask him about _that_."

"Good morning Dr. Martinez," they heard the receptionist greet from the lobby, "it's good to see you."

"Good morning, Sally... it's good to see you too." They heard the deep voice with a slight Latin accent respond.

"They're in the office waiting for you Dr. Martinez," they heard her inform him. She continued her conversation with the former high school principal, though her lowered voice was no longer audible to the waiting team members.

Cesar Martinez entered the room. He was an average height rotund man with thinning white hair. It was clear that at one point in his life he was probably quite the catch, but that day had long since passed.

"Good morning," The School Board President greeted as he walked into the room.

"Good morning," Carol approached the stout man with an extended hand. She motioned to Glenn and Michonne...

"I'm Carol Peletier and these are my colleagues; Glenn Rhee and Michonne Ridoux."

The broad man shook the hand of each individual - stopping to face Michonne.

"Mrs. Ridoux, I understand that Johnny Anthony was your father—please accept my condolences. I had an opportunity to meet Mr. Anthony and he seemed like a very good man." He exclaimed with a smile learned through years of dealing with angry parents and public servants.

"Thank you very much, I appreciate that." Michonne took in the sorrowful eyes of the retiree. His smile reached his eyes and she could see the sincerity in his words.

He looked around the room then motioned to the small table that sat in the office.

"Shall we have a seat so that we can get started?" he asked as he made his way to one of the chairs at the small table in the loaner office.

"We really appreciate you taking the time to meet with us Dr. Martinez. We just had some questions in regards to your meetings with Mr. Anthony," Carol began, "with everything that's happened over the last week, we're working with the authorities to piece together the final days of Johnny Anthony. We are trying to create a complete picture of what may have happened."

"As you can imagine, the District Attorney and the Police Department are under extreme pressure to close the case—but we are in search of the truth, not just a simple appeasement." Michonne said with sincere conviction – not breaking eye contact with the questioning man.

"Actually, I'm not sure how I can help you," Cesar Martinez began, "whatever statement I made thirty years ago is probably going to be much better than anything I could tell you now. The memories were fresh at that time, and as you can imagine they wouldn't be now."

"We do understand that sir, but we just had a few questions," Glenn said.

"We would like to read back portions of your statement to you to see if maybe it sparks a memory—When you were initially interviewed by the detectives thirty years ago, this is the statement that you gave," she handed him a copy of his recitation in written form, "and when my colleague Sasha Williams and I met with you ten years ago—these are the statements that you made.." she handed him another set of papers.

"If you look at them, you'll see that the statements are practically identical with a few exceptions…" Glenn added.

Cesar Martinez began looking over the paperwork that was just handed to him. He looked somewhat perplexed as he reviewed his own words.

"So, thirty years ago, I said that Robert Stookey was fired because he was teaching a lesson that was not Board approved—and ten years ago I said he was fired for not following Board policy," he gave a half smile and looked at the attorney's, "that's actually the same thing."

"We know that Dr. Martinez," Glenn said looking at the Board President, "that's actually not the contradiction we were referring to."

The awkward pause lasted long enough for the face of the aging retiree to shift from calm to agitation. Over the course of a forty year long career in education, Cesar Martinez had worked his way up from part-time Instructional Assistant to School Board President. He had gotten to where he was in life and career by not allowing his facial expressions to betray his words. It was true in his professional life; it was true in his personal life. He knew how to play the game. This meeting would be no different – except, he knew it was.

"We're not referring to your statements to Johnny Anthony about why Mr. Stookey was fired, we're referring to the statement that you made after Mr. Stookey was found dead—and then the statements you gave when questioned about the Anthony disappearance," Glenn stopped, giving the slightly confused man a chance to catch up.

In his hands, Cesar Martinez held five different stapled packets: a copy of Vail High Schools newsletter from thirty years ago, The School District Newsletter from the same time period, the statement he gave in the Stookey vs. Martinez lawsuit, and the statement he gave to the detectives in regards to his final meeting with Johnny Anthony. He flipped through the papers before Carol spoke…

"We highlighted the areas that we'd like to discuss—we think it might make things easier as we review the information."

The retiree, with years of staying calm in the face of all storms, was visibly shaken as he reviewed the documents in his hand. He gave a slight smile at the thought of his mother's words - _The devil always comes for his due; it may take years, but he will eventually come knocking._

He gathered the paperwork and smiled politely at the three individuals in front of him. It may have just been in his mind, but he was pretty sure that all three had a 'we gotcha' look on their faces. _The dirt done in the dark will always blow into your face in the light of day._ He stood before speaking…

"I appreciate you all taking the time to come and speak with me. However, any further communication that we have should be scheduled through my attorney. I will not be making any further statements without my attorney present," he gave his most pleasant smile.

After the appropriate amount of politeness; Michonne, Carol and Glenn walked out of the School Board building.

"That went pretty much the way we expected," Michonne gave a half smirk to her colleagues.

"Yep," Carol concurred before facing Glenn, "did you see how he reacted when he looked at each document?"

"I did," Glenn confirmed, "he answered our questions without even saying a word."

Carol smiled at her protégé with all the pride she could exude – trying not to give him a big head.

"When we get back to the office we need to make sure to contact our partners and include some specific questions to ask Jadis Palesky tomorrow. Maggie will be with the officers, so at least we know she'll ask the questions," Michonne told her colleagues as they got into Carol's car.

"Yeah—and we need to meet with Neil Gannon. I have a feeling that he has more to do with this than we first thought," Carol interjected.

oooooo

He pulled her tighter. Her breasts were tightly pressed against his chest. Their hearts were beating in sync as their tongues swirled in each other's mouths. He began to suck her bottom lip.

"Mmm," she moaned into his mouth – feeling the tingle in her stomach and the wetness in her panties, "you taste so good," she mumbled – slightly letting go of his mouth.

He opened his mouth wider to take in both of her lips – he sucked gently. The sucking intensified as he held her tighter, pulling her onto the brake that sat between them. He moved his hands under her shirt and rubbed her bare back. Lessening his grip on her lips he slipped his tongue back into her mouth.

"Rick," she moaned, running her hands through his hair.

"Oh…Michonne," he reciprocated the moan, "…baby."

He moved his lips to her neck – moving her hair behind her shoulder. He began sucking her neck – gripping her tighter.

She moved her hands from his hair and began rubbing his back – then she moved her right hand to his crotch and began stroking his erection. Even through the constricting jeans she could feel the enormity of his excitement.

"Michonne," he whispered as he suckled her neck, "you're so fuckin' sexy…" he continued to devour her. He moved his left hand from her back to her front –moving up to her breast. He slid his hand under her bra and took hold of her breast. Her pea sized nipple became harder as he rubbed it with the palm of his hand. He opened his hand wider and began to squeeze her voluptuous breast.

"Oooh…Rick," she sighed, barely able to speak. The kiss had become feverish.

He slid his hand out of her shirt and adjusted himself before breaking the kiss.

"I had a really good time," he mumbled resting his forehead on hers.

"Yeah," she whispered, "you are really good at picking restaurants," she giggled before turning her head slightly to re-capture his lips. She opened her mouth for him. Their tongues began to comingle again.

"Baby…" he said, slowly backing out of the kiss, "I need to walk you to your door…" she didn't break the kiss.

"Mmm," she moaned, "I only had one glass of wine –but I feel drunk—you taste so good and your scent is intoxicating," she told him suggestively not breaking eye contact.

He closed the distance between them - held her tighter than before. He snuggled his face between her breasts, the thin layer of her shirt denying him full access. His hands moved around her body with abandoned precision – one hand stopping between her legs. He was grabbing at her folds, squeezing them – he could feel the dampness of the material.

"Oh my…" she was about to lose it. _Oh god…he's gonna make me cum without even pulling my pants down._

"Michonne…" he whispered, then slowly backed away and sat back in his seat.

"I—uh—haven't made out in a car since I was a kid…" he stuttered out, regaining his compose and looking into the frustrated and questioning eyes of his dinner companion. _Damn you're so lovely_ — _please stop making this so goddamned difficult_. He looked down and ran his hands over his face.

"Rick…" she began – staring at him, not releasing her hold on his crotch or his arm.

"I know…" he looked back into her big brown questioning eyes, "I—really—really want you too—more than you can even begin to imagine," he chuckled shaking his head.

"Then why—" she began.

"I'm not some kinda saint or anything—believe me. It's just that, I don't wanna rush—I want us to take our time. We just met, but you mean so much to me…" his body was badly in need of her, "are you okay if we don't—right now?" he managed to say.

"Maybe making out like this isn't the best idea—I mean," she pointed at his erection then looked down at her wet pants and smiled

"Yeah—I know—but kissing you…" he chuckled as he ran his hand through his hair, "I don't want to stop doing that— _ever_ ," he looked back into her lust filled eyes and saw that she understood his meaning. This would not be a casual affair. It wouldn't be something that they could walk away from. He wanted to be in a relationship with her – a commitment that went far beyond sex.

"Okay," she agreed, not breaking his stare, "I'll follow your lead."

She removed her hands from his body as she moved back over into her seat…

"Rick…I want to be with you…in every way…" she confessed staring into his clouded over blue eyes, "but I respect that you wanna take this slow," she smiled and lightly chuckled, "just know that you can have all my goodies when you're ready," her chuckle becoming a laugh as she reached over and hit his shoulder.

He laughed, "err—well—that's good to know," his face red and his lips swollen, "trust me—I'm very much looking forward to having your goodies," he smiled taking her hand.

"I guess that was a little—forward on my part but—well, we're not kids," she paused looking deeper into his eyes, "and I'm way too horny and turned on to play coy," she smiled.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat then nodded his head, "umm—let me walk you to your door so I can get home and take a cold shower."

They laughed as they got out of the car – he took her hand and walked her to the door.

"Get some rest; you have a busy day tomorrow deputy," she told him before placing a quick kiss on his lips.

"Okay ma'am, and don't start with the kissing again," he smiled, facing her and taking her other hand.

"Alright," she leaned in and kissed him again – longer this time. She stepped closer to him and parted her lips, giving him full access to her mouth. He accepted her offer. They kissed longer.

"I'll call you when I get home," he promised backing away.

"Drive safely, Rick," she allowed him to step out of her personal space and gave him a passion filled stare. He kissed her hand before turning to stroll to his car.

oooooo

 _The Stars and Sunshine Retirement Village_ was both a nursing home and an assisted living facility located just outside of Atlanta on acres of plush greenery. The many stereotypes and preconceived notions of retirement homes definitely did not apply in the case of this retirement village. Not only was it impeccably groomed on the outside, the inside of the facility was even better. The lobby was similar to that of a five star hotel with pristine elegance. The staff was friendly and seemed to nearly outnumber the residents. The entire place smelled of fresh flowers and the brightness of each room was refreshing.

 **Jadis Palesky** had been a resident of the retirement village for the past five years. The seventy-five year old woman had survived breast cancer ten years ago - she underwent a double mastectomy. The septuagenarian currently suffered from osteoporosis, arthritis in her hips, heart disease, macular degeneration, lupus, and increasing bouts of dementia. Her five foot nine inch frame was now skeletal – only small remnants of flesh remained. Her wrinkled skin was covered with liver spots. She wore a blunt cut brown wig with blonde bangs – covering a scalp that contained only a few strands of gray hair. She moved the wig back and forth as she spoke.

The retired Human Resources Director was far past caring about the trappings of vanity or modesty. She no longer concerned herself with what others thought of her words or her looks. She said what she wanted without any care of retribution or retaliation. She was sick, with not much time left in the land of the living - she was freer than most would ever experience. Her years of being a politically correct professional bureaucrat were long gone.

"…Yeah, she was a whore. Wasn't just Cesar Martinez…found out later that she also had something going on with one of the teachers at the school…he had a stupid name…can't remember what it is right now. But it was stupid." She grimaced, tightened her robe, and readjusting her wig as she looked over to Abe.

"My first husband had red-hair…wasn't too good in bed…his hands were big, false advertising because nothin' else was…" she stopped and picked up her water.

Shane and Maggie couldn't stifle their silent laugh. Rick looked away – Abe stared at the not quite enfeebled woman with both pity and acrimony.

"Mrs. Palesky, um, how do you know that Mrs. Stookey was involved with other men?" Maggie asked, having recovered from her temporary burst of laughter.

The free speaking older woman looked away from a flabbergasted Abe and focused on the pretty young woman standing before her…

"You're a pretty little girl…that's a pretty top, always liked that color. My sister Joan had a top like that…she was a mousy tramp. Know how hard it is to be both mousy _and_ a tramp?" Maggie was momentarily stunned and at a loss for words.

"…He came to me and told me about the affair after Stookey got fired and sued the school district…the little pansy was scared…didn't want everybody to know that he was screwin' the whore," she snorted…

"...we kept his name out of everything because the school board didn't want…"

"Ah-choo…" she sneezed – picked up the handkerchief sitting next to her – wiped her face, then glanced over at Shane…

"You look like my brother-in-law Jeff…he was an asshole…small hands too, don't think my sister was too satisfied,"

"Ugh…ugh," she coughed and then winked at him, "Yep…probably why she was such a bitch to everybody…told her to self-satisfy…don't think she ever did,"

"Ugh…ugh," she coughed again.

The befuddled team looked at each other before refocusing on the vacillating woman…

"Mrs. Palesky," Rick said with a slight tap on her bony shoulder, attempting to refocus her, "what didn't the school board want?"

"Sheesh," she exclaimed with annoyance, "they didn't want people to know that they fired a black teacher whose wife was having an affair with a white teacher…everyone would feel sorry for Stookey and the district would have to pay up. I told the little pansy to keep his mouth closed…"

"Ah-choo…" she sneezed again…

"…We kept all of that private—never told the lawyer when he came to meet with me. His daughter showed up years later—didn't tell her either—I was getting ready for retirement and wasn't gonna mess that up—but she kept looking at me. Her eyes were like his…"

"Ugh…ugh…" she brought the handkerchief to her face again…

"…I liked the lawyer…he had large hands…" she smiled then trailed off before continuing, "the food here takes like dog shit…my sister April's food tasted like dog shit too…her kids were stupid, hated having those little morons in my school district. They…"

"Mrs. Palesky," Rick interrupted the start of the older woman's walk down her random memory lane, "what about Cesar Martinez, did he know that along with having an affair with him, Mrs. Stookey was also having an affair with one of his teachers?" Rick stepped closer to her and leaned down to look her in the face.

"You're cute—I'd lay with you. Let me see your hands," she gave him her best partially toothless grin. Rick smiled, slowly stood and backed away from the forward golden-ager.

She smiled at the rest of the group in the room, "Yes, Martinez knew. Tried to act like it didn't matter, but I could tell it did. We never really discussed it—but he knew," she answered the previously asked question.

"Mrs. Palesky," Abe came closer, "did Mrs. Stookey know that you, Martinez, _and_ the school board knew about her…affairs; and did her husband know?" He asked smiling at her and grinning at Rick.

"Stookey knew about his wife," she smiled and nodded her head, "somebody slipped a note into his car right before he was fired—he showed me the note, but I'm pretty sure he never told his lawyer—he didn't want to believe it…" she paused to sip at her water.

"Ma'am," Shane began, "do you remember what the note said?"

"I'm old and dying…but I'm only senile part of the time young man," she barked out, "of course I remember." She went silent while the wheels in her fragile brain began to turn, "it was a bible verse – from Leviticus; _ **T** hey shall not take a wife that is a whore, or profane; neither shall they take a woman put away from her husban **d**_ …" she stopped…

"I'm pretty sure there was more, but I think that was the gist of it…"

"Did you ever tell anybody about the note Mrs. Palesky?" Rick asked kneeling in front of the sick woman.

"No—kept it to myself."

"Barbara Stookey always acted like she was so innocent…felt sorry for her husband…the kid probably isn't even his," she speculated, "don't know what she knew…but the lawyer knew…"

"Mrs. Palesky, which lawyer are you referring to?" Maggie inquired.

"The white one…the one that worked with the missing lawyer," she sniffed and fumbled with her robe and readjusted her wig.

"By the white one, do you mean Milton Woods - Johnny Anthony's colleague?" Shane asked.

"Think that was his name—sneaky little weasel. I planned to tell the other lawyer, and then he disappeared—they just found him under the school building—did you hear about that?" Confused and still on her sorrowful walk down the road of yesteryear.

"…the weasel called me after Stookey killed himself. I told him that Barbara Stookey was involved with two people at the school…didn't give a damn what the school board wanted anymore…figured with Stookey dead, his wife was still trying to get money from the district. I wasn't going to help her or the district..." she stared into the vast landscape of nearly forgotten regrets…

The room went silent while the team took in her words. They looked at each other; each knowing Barbara Stookey never mentioned that she had continued the lawsuit after her husband killed himself. The district paid her a lump sum with a non-disclosure agreement. They each took note that it was something they would need to discuss at a later time.

"It was their fault you know…just as much as hers that he killed himself. He didn't deserve to be fired and she didn't deserve to be treated like some kinda sainted widow—she was a whore. The school district got rid of him to avert the scandal and used me to do their dirty work. The joke was on them when they ended up with an even bigger scandal," she giggled in all her toothless glory…

"…they couldn't get rid of Martinez though because he was tenured," she laughed then drank more water.

"...then the district got stuck having to work with that smug bastard Gannon—served 'em right," she smirked.

They knew that she was referring to Neil Gannon. His company Gannon Construction became the go-to contractor for the school district not long after the Stookey lawsuit. There was something underhanded going on between him and the district – they just hadn't figured out how all puzzle pieces fit together.

"What did Gannon have on the Board members that made them keep him on for all these years? Was it extortion?" Shane asked, hoping that the terminally ill woman would continue purging herself of buried secrets.

"Ugh…ugh," she coughed, put a napkin to her face and looked at Shane with her dark gray eyed stare …

"I never really knew—it had something to do with Martinez," she winced, "Martinez used his influence and the secrets he knew about the board members to make sure Gannon got every contract with the district that he ever put a bid in for."

She frowned - then smiled and looked over to Shane… "I liked that Johnny Anthony—his hands were big—I was gonna tell him everything before he vanished. Probably would've lost my job, but right then I didn't care. Figured I owed Stookey that much. His wife was a whore you know…" she readjusted her wig.

"I'm ready for lunch…the food taste like dog shit…the rice pudding is okay, not like I use to make, but at least it's not like dog shit. My sister Lilly cooked food that tasted like dirt. She didn't know how to season food…bland dog shit…" she trailed off.

The team's conversation with the retired Human Resources Director - for one of the largest school districts in the state of Georgia - continued to spiral down the stairwell of incoherent recollections and disjointed thoughts. They stayed in the room with her until one of the nurses came to dispense her noon time medication.

The investigative gang of four walked out into the hot and humid Georgia day. No one spoke as they made their way to the vehicles.

"Other than the fact that Rick never showed the lady his hands, - _they all looked at Rick and chuckled, Shane slapped him on the back_ \- and she has relatives who can't cook for shit," Abe said with a smirk, "she may've been bat-shit crazy, but the lady was full of information."

"Yeah—we need to set up a meeting with Milton Woods. He's been ducking us for the last week. His name keeps coming up." Maggie said. _I need to talk to Michonne before we start down this road. It's time for her mom to speak to all of us. Damn—she's not gonna like this._

"I agree little lady. But there's some others we need to talk to," Abe said, "I said this was gonna be a shit tsunami—time to get out the galoshes."

ooooo

* * *

A/N - Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think.


	10. Chapter 10 - Prayer Vigil

**Author's Note:** In chapter 3-The Meeting, I introduced all the suspects in the case(s). They were underlined. Throughout the story, as the individuals have been questioned or mentioned, their names are underlined or in bold text; just my way of giving you, the reader, an easier way of identifying who they are and making note of what they say, or don't say. Thank you all for reading this story...I'm so incredibly appreciative.

* * *

 **Chapter 10 – Prayer Vigil**

They stood just shy of the welcome mat, hands intertwined, staring into eyes whose hue softly contrasted their own – ocean blue washing over a cocoa shore. He kissed her softly until she spoke...

"Mrs. Palesky sounds like quite the character," she said looking slightly away from his stare.

"Yeah," he said, recapturing her gaze.

"So she wants to lay with you huh… _she giggled_ …I hope I get first dibs on that," the giggle became a small smile – giving into his stare.

"Absolutely…no question…" he took her into his arms. They hugged…gently rubbing the back of the other. He breathed into her hair – she breathed into the nape of his neck.

"Good night baby," he whispered, "I'll call you when I get home."

"Okay," she said as he gently broke the hug and captured her lips with his. The kiss quickly became deeply passionate, but noticeably _different_ than the other nights. The kiss was not as lustful or smoldering. The sexual desire was there – but _different_. They held each other tighter - the kiss was tender. A warm breeze washed over them. He softly stroked her back. She slowly broke away.

The carefree and jovial mood of the evening suddenly turned serious. The awkwardness that settled between them was noticeable to both. She shook her head to break the magnetic pull of his gaze. The unspoken words were deafening. The silence lasted for what seemed like an eternity before she spoke…

"Drive carefully," she whispered – catching her breath. They unclasped their hands. He stroked her face. His slightly callused hands were gentle along her soft skin. She broke the stare and backed up to her door - he watched her before he turned to descend the two front porch steps and walked to his car. Neither spoke.

Michonne entered her quiet house consumed with thoughts of the deputy.

oooooo

The Atlanta heat was unrelenting – even at seven thirty in the morning. She reached over to turn up the volume as she weaved through the downtown Atlanta traffic.

"We're back…thanks for tuning into Hot 101. If you're just joining us, we've been discussing the Johnny Anthony case all morning. It's what's on everybody's mind...so let us know what you're thinking."

"We have Tom from Stone Mountain on the line—what's on your mind Tom?"

" _I don't think they're doin' enough to find out how the brother died. He was working in the community, tryin' to look out for the little guy and they killed him. You know they don't care about him…or really finding out who killed him."_

"Thanks for the call Tom…let's go to Paul from Atlanta—what's on your mind Paul?"

" _I agree with Tom. You_ _ **know**_ _the police don't give a damn about a dead black man who was working in the black and brown community. It's been over a week since they found him and they've only made one statement…and it was vague at that."_

"Thanks for calling Paul…we have Joe on the line from Atlanta—what's on your mind this morning?"

" _I heard that Johnny Anthony's daughter is working with the cops to figure out how her father died. That sounds like a lie they put out to take the pressure off the A.P.D. and the District Attorney's Office. It sounds_ _ **way**_ _too convenient. They're all a bunch of liars."_

"Thanks for calling Joe…we have Jeffrey on the line from Decatur—what's on your mind this morning Jeffrey?"

" _I'm tired of all the conspiracy theorists out there. The man was killed. It doesn't mean it was a conspiracy or some kind of cover-up. People get killed all the time—don't mean it's a racially motivated thang. I think a lot of people just want to incite some kinda riot. People need to just give the authorities a chance to investigate this."_

"Thanks for your call Jeffrey…we have Tasha from Atlanta on the line—what's on your mind this morning Tasha?"

" _I don't know why Mr. Anthony was killed, and quite frankly, I don't think it really matters—I mean it was thirty years ago. What I do care about is healing our city, our state and our country. We have_ _ **a lot**_ _of problems and solving a thirty year old murder shouldn't be the main thing on everybody's radar. There's a prayer vigil tonight in downtown Atlanta. We all need to come together and pray for peace…and also send strength and prayers to the Anthony family in their time of public scrutiny."_

"Thanks for calling Tasha…we have Angeline on the line from Atlanta—what's on your mind Angeline?"

" _Why haven't we heard more about the school districts involvement in this case? I heard that they're being investigated, but as far as I can see, it's business as usual at the school district. The whole thing seems fishy to me. They're doing all this renovation on buildings, but our kids are failing. I mean_ _ **really**_ _. Somebody needs to investigate those crooks."_

"Thanks for calling Angeline…we have time for one more call before we go to break. Trevor from Druid Hill is on the line—what's on your mind Trevor?"

" _I don't want to make this about race, but anybody who thinks that race doesn't play a part in this investigation is not living in this country. That might actually work out in this case. I think the powers that be are_ _ **so**_ _afraid of looking like racists that they're gonna work extra hard on solving this case—and the fact that it's Johnny Anthony is gonna make them work just that much harder."_

"Thanks for all the calls everyone. This is definitely a hot button topic...lots of theories and speculation. Just want to remind everyone that there is a prayer vigil at Stone Park in Atlanta tonight. Contact the station for more information. This is our time to stand together in peace; I'm your host, Skip Wilson, and we'll be back after we pay a few bills."

Michonne pulled into her parking spot and turned off the ignition. Listening to people -strangers - express varying opinions about her father, her family, and her city was disconcerting. From the time Johnny Anthony was found under the school building the importance of the discovery did not escape her. She stepped up and took the bull by horns to ensure that neither her family nor her city would implode. But then - the new relationship with Rick…had driven the case into the background. Not completely into the background, but definitely not in the forefront of her mind. The new relationship with Rick was good – No, better than good.

 _I've waited my whole life to have this; to feel like this. Damn, he makes me feel so good. It's hard to think sometimes. I know I haven't put my all into this case. Too damn distracted; I want that man so bad. Maybe after we have sex I'll be able to focus better._

"Hahaha," She laughed to herself as she walked to the side of the building where the employees enter.

 _I'll probably be even more distracted after that. God…I bet he's good in bed._ _Last night—what the hell was that? You know what that was Michonne. Is it even possible…we've known each other for less than two weeks. He felt it too. Maybe he didn't. Damn. I need to call Mom Jacqui._

"Stop it Michonne," she quietly told herself as she entered the elevator.

 _I deserve this…him. I have to focus on this case though - For mom. We need to go to that prayer vigil tonight._ _Where are the girls?_

She exited the elevator and scanned the office for her colleagues.

"Mags…" she shouted over to her friend, "Is everybody else here? Let's have a quick meeting in my office..."

oooooo

 _The team,_ along with Glenn, had an impromptu meeting in Michonne's office. She recounted some of the opinions that people in and around Atlanta had in regards to her father's case - based on the radio listeners she'd just heard. The group briefly discussed their take away from the Cesar Martinez and Jadis Palesky interviews. The officers were scheduled to meet with Garreth Tracker this morning (Wednesday) and various members of the entire team would meet with Neil Gannon and Merle Deets on Thursday.

Michonne suggested that some, if not all, of them attend the vigil.

"I'll get the information on the vigil," Tara offered as they began to disperse from Michonne's office.

"Maybe it'll be a good idea if we let the officers know—maybe they should come too," Sasha recommended before everyone moved on with their day, "and I think we should let the organizers of the vigil know that Johnny Anthony's daughter will be there…I think they had already extended an invitation."

"I don't know about that Sasha. They'll probably want me to speak—and I—I don't really want to do that," Michonne interjected as her anxiety rose slightly.

"We can let them know that you're just there as a show of solidarity," Rosita explained, taking in the discomfort of her friend. The group looked at their strong friend as she fumbled with her necklace. After a few moments Carol walked over to her…

"You okay sweetie?" Carol inquired, "You know we'll be there with you—"

oooooo

 **Garreth Tracker** was a teacher at Vail High School thirty years ago. He was a co-worker of Robert Stookey. Garreth Tracker left his teaching career twenty years ago and was currently the General Manager of the _Grocery Outlet_ – a fairly new up and coming grocery chain that offered quality food at affordable prices. The stores were located in and around Atlanta.

After the recounting Jadis Palesky gave of her discussion with the teacher that Barbara Stookey was allegedly involved with, it didn't take much deduction to figure out that Garreth Tracker was the teacher. The less than truthful statement that he had given to the detectives when they were investigating Johnny Anthony's disappearance began to make sense.

The former teacher was directed to the awaiting team by the desk sergeant. The men watched him approach. He was about five foot eleven inches tall with salt and pepper hair, and light stubble on a face that looked more like that of a twenty-five year old – rather than fifty-five. He was impeccably dressed in his charcoal Armani 'G-Line' suit with 'Oxford' Santoni shoes.

"Excuse me," he said as he approached the three men, "I'm looking for Officer Ford."

"Good morning," Abe said stepping forward, "I'm Officer Ford. You must be Garreth Tracker. Thanks for coming in." He said extending his hand.

"It's no problem—my office isn't far from here," he smiled his shiniest corporate smile.

"These are my colleagues," Abe motioned towards Rick and Shane as they offered a hand shake, "Deputy Walsh and Deputy Grimes."

"We won't take up too much of your time—let's go into there for a little more quiet and privacy," Abe said motioning to one of the empty interrogation rooms.

The four men walked to the room casually discussing the weather.

"So, exactly how can I assist you gentlemen?" The former teacher inquired, dispensing with further pleasantries.

"Undoubtedly you're aware that Johnny Anthony was found two weeks ago, and we're following up with all the individuals that had contact with him the final weeks of his life," Shane said.

The former teacher didn't immediately respond.

"We have your deposition from the Robert Stookey lawsuit; your statement from when you were initially questioned after Johnny Anthony disappeared and your statement from ten years ago regarding Robert Stookey and Johnny Anthony. We'd just like to clear up some inconsistencies."

Shane handed the finely dressed executive a copy of each document. They gave him the opportunity to review the paperwork before Shane began…

"Two days before Johnny Anthony went missing you met with him and his associate Milton Woods. When asked about your knowledge of Mr. Stookey's firing, you alluded to the fact that Mr. Stookey was not doing his due diligence in meeting the requirements of the district. You stated that you witnessed Mr. Stookey having a conversation with a parent about her son's grades – according to your statement; you said that you felt the interaction was inappropriate…"

Shane stopped for a moment to give the former high school instructor a chance to review the papers before him…

"…And then, ten years ago when you were questioned you stated that you didn't know of a reason why he should be fired."

"We actually are not concerned about those statements per se," Abe continued, "we understand why you would lie for your employer - Cesar Martinez was your principal, and the school district was employer of both of you..."

Abe paused to look the man in the eyes, "...we are more concerned with the dates…"

Garreth Tracker sat fixated on the papers in his hands, not acknowledging the officers…

"…Based on your statement, we know that you met with Mr. Anthony and Mr. Woods one week before he went missing. Our research tells us that it was a very clear day," he sat a paper in front of the man, who was becoming agitated...

"…and when you were questioned by Michonne Ridoux and Sasha Williams ten years ago, you mentioned your conversation with Mr. Anthony – along with your revised statement about Robert Stookey…you also said that when you met with Mr. Anthony the meeting didn't take long...the rain was so bad that you wanted to hurry up, because the drive home would be horrible," Abe placed another paper in front of the stoically silent man.

"As you can see, the only day that it rained within the two weeks prior to Johnny Anthony's disappearance was two days before. We checked his calendar and did not see your name listed. We figured that maybe it was an impromptu meeting that you forgot about when you were initially questioned," Shane said.

"It _is_ odd that you never mentioned the meeting to the authorities," Abe said questioningly, "as we piece together his final days, that chunk of time is very important in the timeline of the last time he was seen alive."

The men had decided not to mention the information they had gotten from Jadis Palesky regarding his relationship with Barbara Stookey. They didn't want to put all their cards on the table – just yet.

"We would just like to fill in that gap of missing time," Rick stated.

"If you could re-read your statements, maybe you'll be able to recall exactly when the meeting occurred and what it was about. We figure there was a reason you had a second meeting with Mr. Anthony, we'd just like you to tell us what it was," Abe said.

The well-tailored corporate man had been slowly building an apprehensive stance - his facial expression turning from that out of calm assuredness to standoffish.

Garreth Tracker had not spoken. It was clear that the former teacher was piecing together the information to come up with a plausible story - a story that may or may not be truthful.

"Am I being accused of something here?"

"We are simply trying to piece together the final days of Johnny Anthony's life. There are no accusations." Rick exclaimed.

"I think I'd like to speak to my attorney before I answer any questions," he stated.

The colleagues looked at each other before looking back at the now rattled executive.

"That is your right Mr. Tracker," Abe stated, "however, we're just trying to piece together information. As my colleague said, there are no accusations here."

"Even with that being the case, I still would like to speak with my attorney." He said as he stood, smiled and proceeded to leave the room.

"We need to have Andrea make this a more formal request if we're going to get any information from that guy." Shane stated.

oooooo

After the brief morning meeting, Michonne sat in her office too consumed with her thoughts to work. The next two hours were unproductive – she spent the entire time staring into the abyss of her worries and fears. Without much thought, she sent a text to Rick.

 _*Good Morning. Hope your day is going well. Is now a good time for me to call you?*_

Before she could sit her phone back down it began buzzing…

"Good morning beautiful," he greeted.

"Good morning—um—how did the interview go with Garreth Tracker?" she inquired.

"It went fine…interesting guy," he chuckled, "we didn't get a lot from him…"

There was an uncomfortable silence on the line.

"How are you feeling today?" He asked.

"I'm…good. Maybe just a little tired. But good," she reticently responded.

"Hope I haven't been keeping you out too late these last few nights," he lightly chided himself.

"No…it's not that," she sighed, "it's just—" she stopped.

He waited for a few moments – when she didn't continue, he began…

"What's wrong? Did somethin' happen?" he asked quietly standing from his temporary desk and walking out of the less than private squad room.

"I'm just…this case," she paused to reel in her bubbling emotions, "what if we don't solve this? Everybody thinks that I'm stronger than I actually am. I mean there's a vigil tonight and they'll just assume that I'll say something smart and eloquent and make everybody feel better—but I can't. I mean, I don't even know how I feel. The girls and my mom—I've always had to be the rock—what if I let my family, my friends and the community down? I can't be—I'm not what everybody thinks I am. I just feel—confused. Confused about—everything…I'm just a jumbled mess. What if I just make everything worse?"

She closed her office door as the bubbling emotions turned to warm tears.

Rick knew what she was saying – and what she wasn't saying.

"Go downstairs—I'm on my way to pick you up," he informed as he walked out of the station bound for his car.

"Rick…I don't—"

"I'm gonna put on my siren, so I should be there in about ten minutes," he interrupted and then released the line.

Even with the siren blaring, the drive to pick up the new lady in his life gave Rick time to think about her words. He told her that he'd be there, but for what? He hadn't formulated a plan of action. He was always a man of action – except for his marriage. In his marriage he just went with the flow – until there was no more flow. Lori made the decision that he avoided making. He had stopped being a true participant in his marriage long before the divorce papers were signed.

He didn't know what to say to this strong woman that appeared to be crumbling. _What should I even say? How do I make this better—easier for her? And last night—there's no pretending. We both know what that was. Damn—what if I read her wrong?_

He pulled into the parking lot of the Nakatomi Building nine and a half minutes after he ended the call with Michonne. She was walking out of the front entrance. He parked and briskly walked towards her. She stopped when she saw him – she tried to hold back the tears but they were not to be restrained. Without breaking stride he took hold of her - he held her – no words passed between the two for minutes.

"Just be who you are—because you're incredible at it," he finally said, "whether we figure out what happened to your dad or not, is no reflection on you. Just lean on me—okay?" he both asked and insisted.

"Okay," she softly sniffled into his chest.

"C'mon baby, let's get out of this heat. I'm gonna take you to get one of those tasteless smoothies you like," he chuckled as he wiped away her tears.

oooooo

Rick insisted on driving her to the park for the prayer vigil. They arrived thirty minutes before the event was scheduled to begin. The crowd at the park numbered in the hundreds. The city provided parking passes for the members of the firm and the officers involved with the case. They began scanning the crowd for their team before seeing the area that had been reserved for them.

The parks small gazebo had been set aside by the organizers for the team. They made their way through the crowd to join their group - Rick placed his hand on Michonne's lower back as they walked, she looked over at him and smiled. The deputy was fighting a battle in his head. He wanted to take her hand but wasn't sure if this was the appropriate time to announce their relationship. He decided to follow her lead. She was distracted and made no move to take his hand.

Their team members approached them. Not only were her colleagues from the firm there, but also Shane, Abe and Andrea.

"I appreciate you guys coming," Michonne announced as they stepped onto the small platform of the gazebo. She looked over at the A.D.A.

"Thank you for coming Andrea—I didn't know that anyone from the District Attorney's Office would be here," she smiled.

Andrea stepped closer to Michonne, "Well, my boss couldn't make it and he wanted someone here to represent the office," she explained.

Michonne didn't notice the ladies give knowing glances at each other during the exchange.

"Well I'm glad you made it," she said while looking around at the others.

"Officer Ford and Deputy Walsh—thank you for coming," she said while reaching out to shake their hands.

"You're welcome little lady. And by the way, I think it's time you call us Abe and Shane—we're all one big happy family here," Abe grinned and gave her a wink.

"Okay—thank you Abe and Shane for coming," she smiled back.

"We're happy to be here," Shane said as he began walking closer to Rick.

"'Chonne," Daryl shouted from the other side of the gazebo. Michonne looked over at her sullen friend and excused herself from small group gathered around her.

"You alright?" He asked.

"I'm—yeah—I'm okay," she looked at the concern on her normally poker faced friend and then reached over to touch his arm.

"Good," he said then looked over at the group on the other side of their current lodging, "So—you like that deputy huh?"

She looked back, over her shoulder, then back at Daryl and nodded.

"I do," she smiled, "a lot."

"Checked 'em out—he's okay." Daryl informed with what any outsider would assume was indifference – but Michonne knew better.

"I figured you did," she giggled, "How many of the girls asked you to check him out?"

"All of 'em," he grunted. She looked over at the girls and giggled some more.

"Look," Daryl began, "I'm goin' with ya'll tomorrow when you meet with Merle Deets. I grew up with assholes like him…I'd feel better if I was there with…"

"Daryl, you don't have—"

"I am," he interrupted.

" _Mrs. Ridoux…"_ came a shout from the other side of the gazebo. Daryl and Michonne looked over and saw two women standing near their team members.

"Mrs. Ridoux…can you join us on the stage? We know you don't want to speak…we would just like to introduce you…if it's okay," the older woman with short brown and gray hair said as the two approached.

Michonne saw the worry on the faces of her friends – her loved ones - _you can do this. They need to know that you can do this._

"Absolutely," she smiled at the woman with kind eyes before looking at her friends and team members,

"I'll be fine," she assured them. Daryl squeezed her arm.

"You'll be great sweetie—and we'll be right here when you're done," Carol informed her.

She looked over at Rick - into the soothing blue eyes of the new man in her life, and he gave her an affirmative nod…

oooooo

There wasn't much of an agenda – the program was conducted in a very informal manner. A minister from one of the largest churches in the Atlanta area began the evening with prayer. The first speaker took the mic. After his inspiring speech, a few other community leaders and clergy took to the stage.

"…Thanks again to all of you for coming out tonight to stand for peace in a time of mayhem. The sun has finally gone down…so as we begin to light our candles and say our final prayer of the evening…I'd like to introduce you to a lovely young woman… _he stopped and reached out to Michonne to join him_ …Johnny Anthony's daughter—Mrs. Michonne Ridoux…"

Michonne walked up to the minister and took the microphone – _inhale – exhale_ – looked in the direction of the gazebo; she couldn't see them clearly, but knowing that they were there, supporting her…she smiled before walking forward…

"Hurrraaaahhh!" The crowd clapped and cheered. The cheering continued for several minutes. Michonne began to feel overcome with emotion before she decided to continue…

She lifted the mic to her lips…

"Thank you," she began – _heart pounding_ …

"Good evening everyone. First I'd like to thank Reverend Moore, Rabbi Ibraham, and all the organizers of this vigil for inviting me…"

"I had not intended to speak tonight, but I decided to say just a few words—" she took a deep breath…

"A couple of weeks ago…we got the answer to a question that has lingered for a very long time. We are grateful that we can finally put my father to rest. My mom and I would like to thank everyone for your prayers, well wishes and kindness—not just over the last two weeks, but over the last thirty years.

She paused and gathered her thoughts…

"I've been working with a pretty incredible team that includes not just my colleagues at the law firm, but members of the Atlanta Police Department, The Sheriff's Department, and the District Attorney's Office. We are working to figure out what happened to my father…but…whether we are able to figure out what happened or not… _she stopped and looked at the faces of people she'd never met – a community of people that wanted a resolution that may never come. But more than anything, they wanted peace._

"…We as a community will rise to the challenge of making this a place of peace—we won't allow hate or fear to define us as a community—or as a people. What happened thirty years ago is important…but what's happening now...right now…is more important. My father worked to make this a world where everyone could have justice…where everyone could have a chance at being a part of the true American Dream. He didn't believe that people should be defined by their past mistakes or missteps...it's the kindness you show to others, your integrity, your endurance in the face of defeat...that's who you are, that's **_we_** are...that's what defines us...Please…please… **Don't** use him as an excuse to divide us….Thank you."

"Hurrraaahhh," the crowd erupted with cheers as Michonne handed the microphone back to the minister. She looked past the kind women who escorted her to the stage – both were clapping and crying – she saw Bob Stookey walking towards her.

oooooo

 _ **The Lipstick Dream Team**_

Michonne stood on the stage in her purple sleeveless double V-Neck fit-and-flare dress. Her friends beamed with pride as the nervous warrior delivered her powerful unplanned speech.

The team cheered for their friend when she stepped on stage; they cheered equally as loud when she left the stage. They watched the tall good looking man make his way through the vigil organizers to get to her. Having met him the prior week, Rosita knew the man was Bob Stookey; Robert and Barbara Stookey's son.

"Is that her boyfriend?" Andrea asked looking at the group but landing her stare onto Rick.

The group was taken aback by the casually intrusive question. Rosita stepped closer to Andrea to answer the inquiry before anyone else.

"No," Rosita snapped at the A.D.A., "that's Bob Stookey…we met him last week when we went to speak with Barbara Stookey…but I have a feeling that you already knew that," she eyeballed the attorney.

The other women stepped forward, not breaking their own glare…

"I only asked because of the way he approached her and the way he's looking at her. Seems like there's something going on there," Andrea continued.

"Well, she's a beautiful woman—and men look at beautiful women," Sasha began…

"Michonne barely knows him—and who she dates, and doesn't date, is none of your business—or that of the D.A.'s office," Rosita jumped back in.

"I was just—" Andrea was interrupted.

"We know what you were _just_ doin'," Maggie chimed in…

"We don't take it too kindly when anyone," Rosita said stepping directly in front of Andrea, "tries to smear our friend…or try to make others think that she is anything other than the classy lady that she is," Carol stepped behind Rosita and took hold of her shoulder.

"We're sure it was just a question Ms. Harrison, but we both know how words, seemingly innocent words, can be taken out of context." Carol said as she wedged herself between the two women.

Andrea readjusted her gaze onto Carol…

"It was nothing more than a question," Andrea responded looking beyond Carol and focusing on the four women who were currently shooting metaphorical daggers at her.

"Right—because it would be incredibly petty of a professional, adult woman, who's maybe a little bitter that her friend got dumped, to smear someone who had nothing to do with said dumping," Sasha said.

Andrea huffed and rolled her eyes, preparing to defend herself.

"You're right Sasha—" Maggie said.

"Yep, just like it would be unprofessional to disclose information about an attorney who had sex with a bailiff in the women's restroom…" Rosita added.

"Mm-hmm," Maggie agreed.

Carol backed away from Andrea and stood next to Daryl and Glenn. They looked at each other, realizing that Andrea's not so innocent question had opened the flood gates to her own undoing. The gray haired co-partner in her law firm, and boss of these strong willed women, knew that there was no way she could reel them in.

"Anyone who would disclose that kind of information would be really out of line," Maggie glowered.

"Yeah, you definitely wouldn't want that kind of information to get out," Tara added, "because then someone might start looking into past cases of that attorney and find out that the high conviction rate the person has is nothing but smoke and mirrors."

"What do you mean by smoke and mirrors Tara?" Sasha inquired with a cheesy grin.

"Well Sasha, what I mean is that if you pulled cases of said attorney, you might find out that deals were offered to defendants without their attorney being present—which is an ethics violation," Tara started, "and you might find information that was purposefully leaked to the press after the judge instructed everyone involved with the case that there was a gag order in place."

"Absolutely—and you know, the District Attorney's Office has spent money, exceeding the amount that was reported in public documents; on witness prep and housing when the city has stated that there is a moratorium on spending," Maggie added, "that is definitely a violation of public trust." She finished.

"Wow, that would be bad," Tara began, "not sure if it would be equally as bad if it were known within the D.A.'s office that one of the top women in the office slept with the previous D.A. to move up the ladder quickly. Especially if one of the rooms used for the little hookup was reported as 'witness housing' -she said using air quotes-…that would be bad."

"All of these things would be a pretty difficult thing to prove—wouldn't it Tara?" Sasha innocently asked, directing a smirk towards Andrea.

"It _would_ be Sasha, unless you're friends with one of the lowly security guards that no one pays attention to—and the guard has access to every video - from camera's that most people don't even know are there." Tara deadpanned.

"Yeah—guess that's the same as having a lowly friend on the custodial staff that has access to discarded documents that prove collusion between the D.A.'s office and other—shall we say—individuals within the city that they shouldn't collude with," Rosita stepped in.

"And let's not forget the lowly I.T. people who have access to emails—emails that prove where certain leaks to the press originated…" Tara interjected.

"Lots of friends in low places," Glenn shouted over to the ladies with a smile.

"But you know," Tara said smiling at Rosita, "the only way that _that_ kind of information would become public is if someone from the D.A.'s office, using an unnamed source…"

Maggie jumped in, "…that unnamed source is a retired phone operator who hoarded records from the phone company, which is illegal; then used this as her time to pass it on to the D.A.—and she was paid to do it…" she looked at Andrea letting her know that they were well aware of her intention to unveil the records at their upcoming meeting.

Sasha interjected, "…which isn't illegal, but is unethical…"

"…and those records were gonna be made public to embarrass a respected attorney and her widowed mother—well—that would probably cause all those other things to come to light." Tara smiled.

"That retired phone operator came to us first—asking us to buy what she was selling," Maggie walked up to the flustered Assistant District Attorney without breaking eye contact, "we said No..."

"Because it's unethical…" Sasha interjected; her cocky smile had turned into searing disdain as she glared at the blonde woman in front of her.

"We take our profession very seriously and we don't like to play games—especially when people's lives and reputations are at stake," Maggie said in a lower voice – she was getting emotional. Glen stepped away from Carol and Daryl, taking his place behind Maggie.

"See," Sasha stared at the angry blonde who was at a loss for words, "we saw our friend cry today."

"Damn near crumble—even though she tried to hide it," Rosita added.

"We don't like seeing her hurt. She's dealing with a lot right now—and she's coming to grips with a whole lot of feelings…some she hasn't had for a while." Maggie could feel her face becoming flush as her emotions were getting ready to take over. Glenn placed his hand on her shoulder.

"…She's been happy lately, in a way that we haven't seen in a very long time, maybe never. She feels guilty for being happy—with everything going on—" Tara added.

"…And the last thing we'll tolerate is someone trying to sabotage the happiness that she deserves," Sasha continued.

"And, we _**don't**_ like seeing her hurt…" Rosita reiterated in a slightly threatening manner. Carol stepped closer to Rosita.

"If Michonne Ridoux or her mother are embarrassed or besmirched in any way," Tara said, this time not breaking her glare at Andrea, " _Hell_ will rain down on the District Attorney's Office—and at least one of the trusted Assistant District Attorney's in that office will probably never recover her career."

"And that's not a threat…" Sasha offered, "because a threat means that there's a chance that it may or may not happen…"

"It's a promise," Rosita calmed enough to coolly smile at Andrea, "because a promise leaves no room for doubt that it will definitely happen."

Carol stepped in front of the women who were unapologetically staring the A.D.A. down.

"But we - _she motioned to her staff standing behind her_ \- and those that we work with, are responsible citizens and sworn officers of the court—so releasing video of inappropriate liaisons and copies of documents proving unethical behavior by the District Attorney's Office to the media, is not something we would _ever_ do…" her smile sent chills down the spine of everyone in earshot who wasn't employed by her, "unless we _had_ too." Her smile never left.

Andrea, whose face was now slightly crimson, did not respond as she turned and exited the private gazebo area.

The remaining members of the 'team' silently watched the shaken attorney disappear into the sea of people illuminated by candle light.

"Come on ladies, let's go rescue 'Chonney from that fine man," Sasha happily exclaimed, glancing over at Rick, "she already has herself a fine man—she don't need that one," she giggled.

Maggie, Sasha, Tara and Rosita smiled and nodded at Rick before exiting the gazebo area in search of their friend. Carol - flanked by Daryl and Glenn - followed closely behind.

Daryl waited until they were far enough away from the lawmen to speak…

"Them broads is crazy as shit." Daryl deadpanned.

"I'm both scared and turned on right now…"Glenn said. Carol simply smiled as they followed behind the _Lipstick Dream Team_.

oooooo

They had just witnessed blatant extortion and a veiled threat – though not overt, it was certainly implied. Rick, Shane and Abe stood in quiet shock. As men of the law none were sure how to react.

"I think we're gonna need a new A.D.A.," Shane proffered still recovering from what they'd just seen.

"Not sure who scared me more, the ones that I'm sure carry a shank, or the gray haired leader who I'm certain is in league with the devil," Abe joked somewhat seriously.

"Remind me to never cross those women…they're fuckin' beasts," Shane said as the three tried to take in everything they'd just seen...

"I'm pretty sure that we just witnessed a crime being committed—" he chuckled looking over at Rick.

"And thanks a lot Grimes for letting me in on the secret that I guess _isn't_ so secret," Abe smirked at Rick.

"I'd like to keep my personal life personal," Rick replied as they followed the group out of the gazebo area.

"Shit definitely ain't private," Shane chimed in before laughing louder, "I told you her friends were no joke. You better watch your back."

"And don't ever fuck around—I can assure you that your body will _never_ be found," Abe laughed…

"…Who's the chic you dumped?"

"I'd like to know that too," Shane spoke up before Rick could answer, "That was news to me, brother."

Rick was ignoring his two friends as he scanned the crowd for Michonne.

"Rick—you slick quiet bastard," Abe hit Ricks back nearly knocking him off balance, "who was it?"

"I'm keeping that private—plus I'm no longer seeing her, so it doesn't matter," Rick answered hoping to end the conversation.

"Apparently everybody on our team thinks that you dumped this unnamed woman for Michonne," Abe said raising his voice as they moved further into the crowd, "Is it true?

"I ended things because it was something that wasn't going anywhere," Rick responded not breaking his stride.

"Fair enough," Abe said trying to keep up with the determined deputy, "So…you're dating the hottie with the body?"

Rick stopped in his tracks and faced both Abe and Shane, but stared directly into his crass friends face…

"Yes—Michonne and I are seeing each other. And don't ever refer to her that way again," he cocked his head to the side and stepped closer to Abe.

"Wooo—" Abe said holding his hands up in the 'I surrender' position, "No disrespect Kimosabe."

Rick grimaced at the large red headed man before turning and continuing his search for Michonne.

The group was gathered near the stage. Rick could see Michonne talking to the others and appeared to be introducing them to the man that he now knew was Bob Stookey. Surprising himself, he felt a sudden tinge of jealousy.

Michonne saw Rick, Abe and Shane as they approached. Without thought or hesitation, she broke away from the group and walked quickly towards the approaching men. Before Rick could speak – or think – she jumped into his arms. He took hold of her as she buried her head in his chest. She needed his arms, his scent, and his touch. He held her tight.

She kept her head tucked into his uniform shirt without speaking. They remained in each other's arms for what seemed like an endless amount of time. Rick heard someone clear their throat. He looked up – their friend's eyes were transfixed on the unfolding scene before them. He gingerly walked a few steps closer to their awaiting team; Michonne didn't loosen her grasp on him – her face stilled in his chest. Rick captured the eyes of Barbara Stookey's son and extended his hand…

"Mr. Stookey, it's nice to meet you. I'm Rick Grimes—Michonne's boyfriend..."

* * *

A/N: Let me know what you think...Blessings.


	11. Chapter 11 - Tonight's the Night

****smut warning****

* * *

 **Chapter 11 – Tonight's the Night**

"My boyfriend huh…?" she smiled and squeezed his hand.

They left the park without much conversation. She was approached by several community members. Most wanted to express their condolences; others just wanted to hug her and say how proud her father would be. The team stayed close behind as they made their way through the crowd – back to Rick's car.

The drive to her house was quiet. They held hands without speaking – sneaking glances at one another. He lifted her hand to his mouth and lightly kissed it as he drove.

"I realize I probably should 'a run that by you first, but—I know how I feel, and I was hopin' you feel the same," he told her.

"I do—" was all she was able to say before he took hold of her – they began to kiss. The kiss was unrelenting. It was feverish. It was their deepest passionate kiss – rivaling the nights before. He broke the kiss. Her eyes were still closed – lips still puckered. He took the keys out of her hand, turned away from her and unlocked her door. She opened her eyes – watching him questioningly.

He turned to face her, looked into the eyes of his girlfriend and confessed, "I want— _No_ —I need to make love to you," the confident – but slightly nervous deputy opened the door, stepped inside, and offered his hand to her. She took his offering and stepped across the threshold of her home. He closed the door.

oooooo

She held his hand tighter and escorted him up the dimly lit stairs to her bedroom. She walked over to the lamp that sat on the nightstand and switched it on. She turned around and bumped into him - he was directly behind her – she felt the bulge in his pants. He took hold of her face. His steely blue eyes bore into her brown orbs - piercing into her heart – her soul.

"Michonne…I'm in love with you. I've only been in love one other time in my life, and that ended a _long_ time ago. I can't explain how it happened so fast, but I have no doubt…there's no question…that I'm crazy, stupid, in love with you…" he leaned in, not breaking his stare, and captured her lips. He parted her lips with his tongue and deftly slid his tongue into her mouth. They kissed deeper. After a few minutes he could feel wetness on his face. He broke the kiss and stepped back. Her face was wet with tears.

"Baby," he wiped her tears, "it's alright if you don't feel the same way…I just wanted you to know how I feel…and I want you to know that when we make love…it's not just sex for me," he took ahold of her and held her tight.

"Rick," she quietly began, "I feel the same way. It scares me. I _think_ I've been in love before but…but not like this…I've never felt like this before. I ache for you, Rick – _a few more tears escaped, he wiped them away_ \- saying that 'I love you' doesn't do justice to how I feel," he kissed her face – alternating between her cheeks in rapid succession - his lips carefully tasting her tears.

"I'll take care of your heart, and your body baby—you don't have to be scared. I'm with you," he told her as he reached around to her back and unzipped her sleeveless flare dress. He slipped it down her shoulders - it hit the floor.

"Tonight I'm gonna make love to you long and slow…" he said with his lips gently pressed to her cheek just below her ear. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes…

"…and tomorrow I'm gonna do the same thing. And then, hopefully, for the rest of our lives," he smiled then softly laughed before recapturing her lips. As they kissed, he reached behind her and unsnapped her bra. He rubbed her smooth skin as he moved his hands to her front and took hold of her breast. He squeezed them tenderly and then leaned down to suck on her nipples - going back and forth between them. He slowly ran his hands down her body until he reached her panties - he slid them off.

Without hesitation he eased his middle finger into her – never removing his eyes from hers.

"Ahhh….Rick," she moaned, "Oh My God…"

"Michonne," he whispered to her, "I've never felt anything more beautiful," he whispered as he added a second finger into her slick folds. He almost lost himself in her warmth. It was like standing in the middle of a summer rain.

"Oh…Rick," she purred, "I want you…I want it…"

"I know beautiful…me too…" he said as he brought his face up to hers and captured her mouth. He removed his fingers from her and held her tight. They kissed as their arousal and desire for each other began to reach its peak.

She feverishly tried to unbuckle his belt as he re-entered her with his fingers, gingerly pumping. She was squirming uncontrollably as he pulled his fingers out, licked them seductively, and then backed her to the bed.

"Rick…I want it…I wanna feel you…" she panted as she scooted further onto the bed while undoing his belt. He unbuttoned his shirt - dropped it on the floor - then pulled his undershirt over his head – discarded it as well.

"You are so beautiful. I never imagined that something like this could happen for me. Didn't think I'd ever be in love again," he told her as he crawled onto the bed staring into eyes that were filled with sexual desire, "I love you so much."

"Oh, Rick…" she wanted to make love to him, but in that moment, she just wanted to hold him, "I love you too."

He climbed onto the bed and pressed his body on top of hers.

"…Your body is so incredible baby…I just feel so honored…" he captured her mouth for the umpteenth time that evening. He slid his hands under her, gently lifting her, and took hold of her ample butt cheeks.

"I've wanted to squeeze these for a while now," he said into her mouth. He began rubbing and smacking the firm yet soft cheeks. She playfully hit his back as they both giggled. They kissed deeply. He began rubbing her, gradually losing all control.

"Rick," she panted, "that feels so good…don't stop."

He released her and began to move down her body. He lifted her legs and placed his head between her legs.

"Rick…" she moaned.

"Lie back baby—I wanna taste the sweetness that's you," he instructed as he placed his face between her legs. He then used his fingers to open the luscious lips and slid his tongue into her. His tongue was tantalizing to her. He moved closer and went deeper into the treasure of his love.

"Aaahh…Rick…." she squirmed – losing all grip on reality as the man she loved took control of her body. He kissed every area his mouth could find; adding soft bites. This was a part of love making that she had experience – but not like this. She was an instrument that he was playing with the skill of an expert maestro.

"Oh my god…..Oh my…" she exclaimed with heated exuberance. Her movements and sounds of pleasure caused him to increase his ministrations. His mouth was all over her; his raw desire taking over.

"Rick," she purred, fisting his hair as she locked her legs around his head. She had never allowed herself to let go in this way; to enjoy this type of pleasure; a gift of pleasure that led her to flail and shake. She began grinding her pelvis into him.

"Rick…I'm gonna…Rick…"

"Michonne…let go baby," he said, only slightly moving his face from her tender spot.

"I love…" she squeezed her eyes shut, a few tears escaped; her back arched as both lightning and thunder rumbled through her body. He drank the juices that she bestowed on him. Her body was trembling. He gently released his hold on her.

"You taste as good as I knew you would," he said, kissing her body on the way up to her mouth. She was still panting, trying to refocus. He kissed her top lip, and then her bottom. Her eyes were closed. He kissed her eyelids and then her cheeks.

"The sweetest nectar I've ever known…I love you so much," he whispered. She opened her eyes to see him staring at her – staring into her soul.

"You're amazing," she told him, softly touching his face.

"I feel like the luckiest man on earth to be able to give you pleasure…" he told her before continuing to kiss her, "I hope I can give you this kind of pleasure for the rest of our lives."

Another tear escaped from her eyes.

"Are you…okay…?" he asked while she diverted her eyes away from him.

"Yes I am. You just…you touch me in a way that I never knew was possible," she looked back into his intense blue eyes, "way beyond your incredible hands and mouth," she smiled.

"Incentive," he whispered. Their lips met again.

He slowly broke their kiss and whispered into her ear…

"Don't hold back on me baby,"he leaned over and kissed her nose, "I wanna give you everything you've never experienced. This is you and me…" he gave her a chaste kiss, "don't hold back," they kissed languidly – deep. She moaned in his mouth as he sucked her lips.

"Look at me, baby," he instructed, she opened her eyes and focused into his determined blues. Her lips were swollen and her brown eyes were glazed over. She was embarrassed by the sudden mix of love and lust that overtook her.

"Michonne…I want you to completely let go…like you just did…it's my intention to spend a whole lot of years making love to you. There's nothing that you ever have to be shy or embarrassed about _._ I loved watching you lose it…it's the most incredibly sexy thing I've ever seen." He began to nibble on her neck. She giggled.

"Rick…you're amazing…" she continued her seductive giggle as he sucked her neck and finger fucked her pussy harder.

"I wanna know all the things that you like…and the things that you think you might like but haven't done…" he continued his sucking as she started to squirm more.

"Rick…umm…the only thing I can think about doing right now is feeling every part of you," she murmured, barely audible, and then carefully dislodged his fingers out of her and moved onto her knees.

"I wanna feel every part of you Rick…" she reached down to stroke him. The pre-cum had leaked enough to provide the lubrication she needed to increase her pace.

"uhh…baby…" he groaned, "Michonne…"

His girth and length increased in her hands. She pushed him back. This was her time. This was where she would let go of all inhibitions and enjoy the feel of her amazing man. He used his elbows to make his way up to the pillows. She let go of the stiffened member and straddled him. She leaned down and kissed him. He took hold of her and kissed her deeper while placing his hand on top of her – they held it up –tickling at her entryway which was coated with the evidence of her desire for him. She placed her hands on his sculpted chest and slowly lowered herself.

"Oooh…Rick," she threw her head back and wiggled as she eased him in - gradually - giving her an opportunity to get adjusted to this new sensation.

"Aahh…" they both groaned as she slowly enveloped him. He grabbed her luscious cheeks and grunted as she sat down further and began moving.

"You feel so good my love…" she moaned as he eased him into her slick folds – deeper. She began to move, allowing him more access. He had a tight hold on her as she began to move with more fervor. Her breasts bouncing – he was so mesmerized at the sight of her.

"Yeah, baby…?" All inhibition was gone as she threw her head back, twisted his nipples, and rode him faster – harder.

"Michooone," he wailed – unaware that his nipples were an erogenous zone for him. "baby…"

"Rick…feel so good," she purred before she leaned down to sloppily kiss him. He sucked her bottom lip as she moaned. His hands roamed from her back to her bottom and back up. He grabbed her hair as she increased her speed. He flipped her over.

"Rick," her brown eyes bore into him with love that he had never seen before. They slowed their pace to accept the connection that they were experiencing, "you fill me in a way that I didn't think was possible. I didn't think that something like this was possible."

"I feel the same way," he confessed.

He continued his stroke – slow. She grabbed her breasts and squeezed them as he leaned over and flicked each nipple with his tongue.

Rick picked up his tempo, lifting her knees to rest them against his nearly hairless chest. He gave her a playful slap on her ass. He began to pump harder. He moved her hands and took hold of her breasts, burying his face between them.

"Rick…Rick…aaahhh…baby," she screamed unrestrained – uncontrolled.

"Yeeessss…" he muttered, not stopping his uninhibited gyrations. He took hold of her mouth and wantonly kissed her. They were both drenched in sweat; the sweat and cum between their legs filled the room with a slick smacking sound. He slowed his pace – then picked it back up. He would bring her to the edge, and then slow down.

"Rick…baby…I…I…need to…" she panted as she writhed in unhampered bliss.

"let go for me baby," he instructed – picking up the pace of his strokes, "I wanna feel you," he pushed her leg slightly to the side to go deeper.

"Rick…Rick…" she screamed before her release – the explosion sending fiery chills through her body –she trembled. He slowed his pace.

"Michonne," he whispered as he kissed her, "I love you…"

"Rick," she opened her clouded over lust filled eyes and looked into his, "thank you," she huskily told him as she regained her thoughts.

"I should be thanking you," he grinned, continuing to stroke her slicker folds, "watching you enjoy yourself is a gift to me."

He leaned down and seductively whispered into her ear, "I plan on watching you lose all inhibitions a lot more before this night is over," he gripped her tighter and picked up his speed. They continued their slow grind for the next thirty minutes. Rick tactfully came out of her and before she could voice a complaint he had her on her side and was behind her. He grabbed his member, slick with her juices – lifted one of her butt cheeks – and guided it into her from the back.

"Aaahh," she moaned, "Rick."

"Michonne…" He grabbed her tighter – squeezing her ample breasts as he took his time. She moaned as he caressed her flat firm stomach, making his way down to her smooth crotch.

"Yes…yes… Rick, yes…" she shook and weakly kicked her legs; losing her mind. She tried to keep focus but she was losing the battle _._

 _I'll take care of your heart, and your body._

"Let go again for me love," he instructed loudly. He felt her jerk – she screamed in ecstasy – and then he felt her hot liquid spill down his leg.

"Mmmm," she purred, "that was so good - _she giggled_ \- I think you're tryin' to kill me."

He flipped her onto her back, "just the opposite," - _he stared into her thirst filled brown eyes_ \- "I want you to live…really live," he climbed on top of her and took hold of her neck – sucking her hot and salty skin.

"I love you baby," he said into her neck as she took hold of him and guided him back into her awaiting opening. They both moaned as he began moving in and out of her. After ten minutes she stopped and nudged him off and out of her.

"Get on your back…I wanna do something that I've been thinking about since I first saw your bowlegged stroll…" she giggled and got on top of him. She kissed him long and slow before moving down his body. She lifted his penis that was less hard, gingerly licked it, and then began to stroke. She put her mouth on it and sucked as she stroked – picking up her speed.

He bucked his hips. She licked from top to bottom; underside of his shaft. The stoically responsible attorney sucked and licked before taking it deeper into her mouth. She could taste the pre-cum mixed with her own juices. Turned on beyond words, she stroked more feverishly before taking him deeper into her mouth. He watched her hair cascade down, flowing back and forth as her head bobbed up and down. He was so turned on…

"Aaahh baby…you're gonna make me…" he stammered.

She picked up her sucking – licking – fondling. She massaged him with her other hand. He fisted her locs as he squirmed.

"Michonne…I'm gonna…"

"Let it go baby," she mumbled with him in her mouth. His body wrenched for a minute before it stilled. He released deep in her mouth. Her mouth became a vacuum as she suctioned out his release – she swallowed most of the thick liquid – some spilled out, rolling down his length and pooled in his wisps of pubic hair. She licked down his shaft; his essence was smooth and bitterly sweet. He grabbed her shoulders and moved her back up to his face. They kissed.

 _There's nothing that you ever have to be shy or embarrassed about._

"You're incredible…" he chuckled, "really incredible…thank you for that," she ran her hands through his hair. The blue eyed deputy and the brown eyed attorney caressed and began to smooch.

oooo

They continued their naked make out session, rolling around Michonne's queen sized bed. As good as their make out sessions had been on her porch, in his car, and standing by his car when they left the Thai restaurant a couple of nights before - this rivaled everything. His hands found every part of her body. He could feel her pulsate as her heart beat faster. He was so hard it was almost painful. She began to stroke him…

"Umm…" he reluctantly pulled away from her. She opened her eyes, barely able to focus…

"What's wrong baby?" She hoarsely whispered.

"I…umm…well it's kinda' embarrassin'… - _he chuckled_ \- …I didn't plan for this…I mean all this… - _he continued to chuckle_ -

"Spit it out deputy," she tapped his arm, "remember, we don't ever have to be embarrassed with each other…" reminding him of his own words.

"I wanna go back inside you so damn bad…but…I don't think I can trust myself to pull out in time. We've been at it for a while…and believe me, it's been a struggle," he chuckled and ran his hand through his hair.

"So…am I to assume that means you don't have anything…umm…handy in your wallet," she said as seductively as possible while she continued to stroke his length.

"Kinda irresponsible to say it now, but I figured I could…you know…control myself. There were a few times that I thought I'd lose it. But, since it's not somethin'…we've talked about, I knew I couldn't…" he said as she mercilessly stroked him.

"…so are you gonna let me off the hook here," he rolled her over on to her back and pinned her down as he began sucking her neck, "you gonna make me ask?"

"Well deputy," she wiggled from under his playful hold and sat up.

"It's been a couple of years, but—I might have one in my drawer," she laughed getting off of the bed.

Rick watched her move towards her dresser. Her body was amazing. Her dark skin glistened with sweat. He was in awe of the sway of her hips. The bounce of her ass, her toned back – and her breasts; He mindlessly began stroking himself while he watched her.

"If you're gonna be doing all kinds of dirty things to me…I guess we're gonna need to invest in some kind of protection," she laughed fishing through her drawer. She found the treasured item and turned around to see her boyfriend lasciviously watching her as he stroked and aroused himself.

"Yeah," he huskily said with his pink swollen lips, "we're gonna need a whole lot of those," not breaking his lewd stare.

"Rick—I only found one - _she got back on the bed_ \- so we're gonna have to make it count," their eyes were glue to each other…

"Deputy…why are you looking at me like that…?"

He didn't speak. He pushed her down as gently as he could, given his hyper horny state. The deputy was back on top of her without a word.

"You know why…" his eyes were dark blue and on fire.

"Umm…" she breathlessly said, "do you want me to put on some music?"

"No," he said without hesitation, "I don't need music…"

He started sucking her breast and rubbing up and down her body…He slid his fingers back into her – she arched her back and moaned.

"…I only need you. I just want to make love to you," he informed her before commencing to ravish her neck.

Rick began to kiss up and down one shoulder, just to switch and give the other equal attention. His hands roamed every part of her body as she writhed. She ran her French tipped fingernails down his back leaving a red trail of passion in its wake. It had been so long since she'd had unbridled sex that the feeling was nearly foreign to her. He began to delicately bite her on her breasts, her shoulders, her neck, and then back to her breasts. She could barely breathe. She lost all sense of decorum.

"Rick….OH MY GOD!" she screamed.

"Where's the condom baby?!" he both asked and demanded. She couldn't speak. She lifted up slightly and picked up the condom that was now sticking to her thigh.

"Baby…stop…let me put it on you…"she panted - her orgasmic state not wavering.

He turned onto his back. She fumbled with the valued sheath attempting to get it out of the wrapper…

"Do you need some help there sweetheart," he chided her as he gingerly stroked his dick with a half smile.

"You've got me too mixed up…I don't think I can remember how to tear a damn wrapper…" she told him with a soft snicker. The treasure was finally freed from its package. She carefully unrolled it.

"What are you smiling at?" She inquired looking down at the grin he had while both squeezing her breast and his steel his stiffness.

"I'm smiling at how beautiful you look holding that rubber—it's a turn on," he laughed.

"You are a really bad boy Rick," she giggled, "I would've never thought such a responsible deputy was such a freak…" she confessed as she moved his hand to roll the rubber down his length. He responded to that comment by sucking her neck harder. He placed his finger at her opening, rubbing the wetness, as she squirmed. He flipped her onto her back.

He balanced on his forearms and stared down at her. He was overcome with love for this woman. He shook his head to stay in the moment of what he wanted to do. He reached to the other side of the bed and grabbed a pillow; he slid it under her hips – lifting her up slightly. He held his slick member and positioned it at her opening…

"I'll never get enough of feeling you," he said seductively as she panted looking into his eyes that were now dark and determined as he began to mercilessly stroked himself.

"Yes baby…yes…I want it," she breathlessly moaned, "I want you…"

She didn't have to say anything else. He pushed his erect thickness into the wetness.

"GOD DAMN IT!" she screamed.

His thrust was powerful - deftly accurate at meeting its target. He hit her deep. She gasped at both how good and slightly painful it felt. The bed was soaked with their mixture.

He pounded away watching her breasts bounce as she buried her nails into his back. She grabbed his wet curls and moaned. As he stroked her he groaned. He raised her leg and went deeper. With each stroke she thought she would lose her mind. He was so deep she was sure he would leave a dent in her cervix. He went deeper. Each stroke more lethal than the one before; she leaked continuously – cumming over and over again - she was amazed to find out - at thirty-seven years old - that she was multi-orgasmic.

"If I died right now, I'd die a happy man," he confessed, pulling her mouth back to his. She opened her mouth wide and sucked his lips. It was the most seductive thing he'd ever felt. He grinded mercilessly into her while she vacuum sucked his lips before sliding her tongue into his mouth.

"Michonne….Damn baby….I'm gonna…." he wailed as he pumped her faster.

"Harder baby…before…" with those words any bit of self control the deputy had was gone. He was gripped her tighter and ferociously pummeled her. She held him tighter as he exploded…

"Fuuuu….!" he shouted.

Both drenched in sweat and trembling, they moaned and took hold of the other. He looked down at her and stared at her wet body. He leaned in and placed his lips on her forehead. He put his head on her chest and she interlocked her fingers on his back. He kissed her lips, and then lightly sucked her tongue. They remained wet and locked in each other's arms until they began to doze off…he gently laid his head on her neck.

"I love you baby," he whispered as she opened her eyes…

"… and trust me—I will _**never**_ screw around on you," he chuckled while looking into her clouded over piercing brown eyes.

"Your friends scare the heck outta me…" he chuckled more. She arched her eyebrow and frowned…

"Why…? What did they do…?" she grimaced as he cocked his head. He smirked, took hold of her and flipped her onto her stomach. He climbed onto her back and with quick precision slid back into her wet pulsating opening.

"Oh…My….G—"

oooooo


	12. Chapter Review

**A/N:** I apologize for taking so long to update this story. Life got in the way. This is not actually an update…it's a recap. For those of you who kept up with my weekly updates, I wanted to make sure that you didn't have to reread the chapters to refresh your memory. For those of you who stumbled across the story and read it (or are reading it) straight through, you won't need to read this update –though it's probably not a bad idea. Please let me just say thank you for the kind words and for sticking with me. I promise to get you to the finish line…Blessings.

 **Story Summary**

Johnny Anthony, an attorney who disappeared thirty years ago, was found buried under a school building currently under construction. The medical examiner determined that he was most likely struck with an object from behind and died from the trauma.

At the time of his disappearance, Johnny Anthony was working on the case of Robert Stookey vs. The School Board. Robert Stookey committed suicide not long after the Anthony disappearance. An investigation was conducted to see if there was a connection between the disappearance and the suicide – none was found. The investigation was handled by the King County Sheriff's Department.

Michonne Ridoux, attorney and daughter of Johnny Anthony, along with her friends and co-workers began a new investigation of both the Anthony and Stookey cases.

Michonne's team from her law firm met with the officers assigned to work with her team: Officer Abraham Ford, Deputy Shane Walsh and Deputy Rick Grimes. Assistant District Attorney, Andrea Harrison also met with the team. The meeting was somewhat contentious, but the group decided to work together. All nine of the suspects in the case were revealed.

Michonne Ridoux and Rick Grimes were instantly attracted to each other and begin a relationship.

 **Chapter by Chapter Summary (for those who need more details than the summary provided)**

 **Ch. 1** \- The body of Johnny Anthony is found at a construction site located at a public school. Johnny Anthony disappeared thirty years ago. He was an attorney working on a case of a fired teacher. The case was Stookey vs. the School District. Michonne Ridoux is divorced attorney with a teenage son. Michonne has a very good relationship with her ex-husband Mike Ridoux and her ex mother-in-law, Jacqui Ridoux. We also meet Rick Grimes, a divorced sheriff's deputy and the liaison between the King County Sheriff's Department and the Atlanta Police Department in the youth education and enrichment program; Rick retained his home in King County, but lives during the weekdays in a modest sized apartment in Atlanta. Michonne's mother, Patricia Anthony, called to inform her that her father was found.

 **Ch. 2** – Michonne and her mother learn that the remains of Johnny Anthony were found under a school building currently under construction. Michonne informs her friends and co-workers that she intends to work on the case. They all agree to work with her. The team comprises of attorney's Carol Pelletier, Sasha Williams, Tara Chambler, Rosita Espinosa and Maggie Greene, along with paralegal Glenn Rhee, and private investigator Daryl Dixon. Michonne's mother has a secret that she discusses with Jacqui Ridoux, Michonne's ex mother-in-law.

 **Ch. 3** – A meeting occurs between Michonne's team and those designated to work on the case: Officer Abraham Ford, Deputy Shane Walsh, Rick Grimes (temporarily – only until his program starts in a few weeks) and Assistant District Attorney Andrea Harrison. Michonne and Rick have an instant attraction to each other. The suspect list is distributed:

The names on the list are as follows (listed alphabetically):

Patricia Anthony, wife of Johnny Anthony

Gabriel Church, Founder and Director of the ATL Community Center

Merle Deets, security officer of the NaKo Office Building -where Mr. Anthony worked

Neil Gannon, Foreman of the construction crew working at the school site thirty years ago -now owner of the Gannon Construction Co.

Arat Jarrod, Johnny Anthony's secretary

Cesar Martinez, Principal of Vail High School -now School Board President

Jadis Palesky, Director of Human Resources for the School District thirty years ago -now retired

Barbara Stookey, Robert Stookey's wife

Garreth Tracker, co-worker - _former teacher_ \- of Mr. Stookey -now General Manager of The Grocery Outlet located in downtown Atlanta

Milton Woods, Mr. Anthony's colleague and co-counsel

Compelling separate conversations occur. The group, with trepidation, decide to work together to make the best of this new 'partnership.'

 **Ch. 4** – on his drive to King County to take his son, Carl, to spend the summer with his mother, Rick makes the decision to ask Michonne out and end his current relationship – though it was never anything serious. Michonne has a conversation with her mother. Her mother reveals that she had the beginning of a relationship with her husband's co-counsel and colleague, Milton Woods. The relationship never went beyond a kiss, but she did confess to her husband. Michonne accepts Rick's request for a coffee 'date.'

 **Ch. 5** – we get the history of Michonne and Daryl's friendship and learn why he is so protective of her. Rick ends his current three month 'relationship' over the phone. Mike Ridoux purchases airline tickets for his son and ex mother-in-law to leave the state, to escape the relentless press and inquiries. Michonne and her team discuss all the facts of the Stookey case and the Anthony disappearance. The team had a very emotional meeting which ended with them reaffirming their love, care, and affection for one another.

 **Ch. 6** – Rick and Michonne get to know each other better through an evening phone conversation. Michonne and Rosita meet with Barbara Stookey and realize that she is holding something back in regards to Garreth Tracker and Cesar Martinez. Mrs. Stookey's son, Bob, made a not so subtle pass at Michonne. Rick, Abe and Shane met with Arat Jarrod. Miss Jarrod admitted that she mixed up Johnny Anthony's calendar and was not sure who he met with the last day he was seen alive – he had a 5:00 p.m. meeting scheduled with both Gabriel Church and Bob Stookey – the two men were located in different cities.

 **Ch. 7** – Maggie, Sasha, Rosita and Glenn show up at Michonne's door in the middle of the night with food and alcohol. Michonne confesses her attraction to Rick and tells her friends about her planned coffee date. Shane gives Rick dating advice on their morning ride to the station. Tara joins Rick, Abe and Shane in their questioning of Gabriel Church. Mr. Church admits that the consensus within the urban community was that he was being railroaded. A lot of people thought that it was because of his race—but he was given some information that it was more than that. There was collusion between someone in the school district and Barbara Stookey. Michonne and Mike talked about their past relationship and the work it took for them to get to their current friendship. They spoke specifically about their sex life and Michonne's apprehension when it came to letting go and enjoying herself.

 **Ch. 8** – Rick and Michonne met for coffee. They were both nervous, but had a nice time getting to know each other. The next night they went out on an official date. At the end of the evening they had an incredible kiss – Michonne would've liked to go further than the kiss; Rick was concerned with making the mistake of moving too fast, thus breaking the kiss and leaving her at her door – both with a heightened sense of sexual awareness and frustration.

 **Ch. 9** – A.D.A. Andrea Harrison revealed to Rick, Shane and Abe that she had information –phone records- that prove Patricia Anthony had some type of relationship with Milton Woods. She did not reveal her source. Her plan was to disclose the information to their 'partners' in the upcoming Friday meeting. Andrea confronted Rick about breaking off his relationship and getting involved with Michonne. Rick refused to discuss either relationship with the intrusive A.D.A.

Cesar Martinez was polite and professional, but refused to discuss his previous statement with Michonne, Carol and Glenn. He, instead, informed them that he would need to speak with an attorney before answering questions.

Rick, Shane, Abe and Maggie met with Jadis Palesky at the nursing care facility ( **A/N** : the most fun I've had writing anything in either one of my stories to date). Miss Palesky revealed that Barbara Stookey had an extra-marital affair with both Cesar Martinez and Gareth Tracker. She revealed that Robert Stookey knew his wife was having an affair, though he didn't want to believe it. Someone had slipped a note into his car that said, in part…(a bible verse – from Leviticus) ** _T_** _hey shall not take a wife that is a whore, or profane; neither shall they take a woman put away from her husban_ ** _d_** …

Mrs. Palesky never told anyone about the note but said that Milton Woods was aware of the accusations of Mrs. Stookey's infidelity. She inferred that Neil Gannon's ongoing work with the district possibly had something to do with extortion and involved Cesar Martinez.

 **Ch. 10** – On Michonne's morning commute she tunes into a radio show where the drive time topic is the Johnny Anthony case. After hearing the varying opinions of recent events, she makes the decision to take part in a prayer vigil organized to bring the community together. Rick, Shane and Abe meet with Garreth Tracker. They remind him of the inconsistencies in his statements in regards to the last time he saw Johnny Anthony.

Prior to the vigil, Michonne leans on Rick for emotional support. He willingly gives her the shoulder to cry on that she required.

At the prayer vigil Michonne gave an unplanned speech to the large crowd about standing together and not letting fear divide the community. The women of the firm, and Michonne's best friends, took A.D.A. Andrea Harrison to task for what they saw as an attempt to besmirch Michonne's character. The women revealed that they had damning information on both the A.D.A. and the District Attorney's Office. Andrea Harrison walked away, depleted. Rick made his way through the crowd at the end of the vigil and after the A.D.A.'s blasting. He introduced himself to Bob Stookey as Michonne's boyfriend.

 **Ch. 11** – Rick and Michonne professed their love for each other, and then made love – the entire chapter.


	13. Chapter 12 - Quick Temper

**Chapter 12 – A Quick Temper**

 _She lay on her bed glancing at the Care Bears poster on her wall. The Care Bear's poster didn't really fit with her new grown-up tastes, but it seemed to make her mom happy to see it on her wall, so she let it stay. Her daddy knew that she was too much of a big girl to still have Care Bears posters and sheets. They decided not to hurt her moms' feelings by revealing that she was no longer a baby. It was their secret._

 _What she really loved were her Wonder Woman poster, her poster of Storm from the X-Men, her Bat-Girl poster, her She Hulk poster, and her Fantastic Four poster featuring Sue Storm - better known as the Invisible Woman. Her favorite poster was the one of the X-Men because Storm was standing front and center - slightly in front of all the other X-Men like she was the leader. Her hair was white and looked like she had just had some kind of shock - like sticking her finger in a light socket. Her skin was light brown and stood out amongst all the other male and female superheroes that she loved. Her eyes were fiercely glowing. Her body was posed in a way that always reminded the little girl that this was not a 'world protector' to be messed with. It was her absolute favorite poster because she wanted to be just like Storm._

 _The homemade collage that she and her mother had made of Thurgood Marshall, Rosa Parks, Harriet Tubman, Susan B Anthony, and Fannie Lou Hamer was right next to her favorite Storm poster. She didn't really know who all of those people were, with the exception of Thurgood Marshall - her dad's hero - but her mom told her that they were important people. Her mom was smart, like her dad. There was no reason to question what her mom told her._

 _All the real live heroes and the make-believe super heroes were great, but she loved Storm best. Storm was strong and could control the weather. Which was awesome. Michonne loved that._

 _She looked around the room as she clutched her favorite teddy bear. She and her father named him Barry. There was no particular reason why they named him that, but it seemed to be the first name that came to her young mind. It fit because he was a bear after all…_

 _The moonlight streamed into her bedroom and she anxiously looked between the Care Bears poster and the other various posters that were so carefully and delicately placed along her wall. She stared at her door. She had been in the bedroom of some of her friends so she knew for sure that her bedroom was the best bedroom of anybody. Her mommy and daddy had helped her to make everything in her bedroom specifically relate back to her, and all the things that she liked - save for the Care Bears. She loved comic books and she and her dad had framed some of her favorites - they lined the wall above her bed. Most of them had women on the cover._

 _They should be coming in at any moment. She knew they would come because she had already brushed her teeth, said her prayers, and climbed onto her bed._

" _They'll be here any minute Barry," she informed her bear focusing into his glassy black eyes. She stroked his fur and looked back at the door. She could hear the sound of voices approaching her room._

" _Did you already say your prayers sweetie?" her mother inquired. Even as a little girl with many friends and seeing many mothers, she knew that her mother was the most beautiful. She was the most beautiful woman in the world. And even if she was somehow unsure of her mother's regal beauty, her father was always there with his words of admiration to ensure its truth. He always looked at her like she was the most spectacular thing he'd ever seen. Michonne felt a little silly when she watched her parents look at each other. Always made her feel a little weird. A little embarrassed. She thought that maybe the way she looked at Joey, who is in her class since last year, was maybe similar to that. She wasn't sure if her parents liked each other the way she liked Joey, but she figured maybe it came close._

" _I was waiting for you two. What took so long?" More of an indictment with her own brand of seven-year-old ire, than it was a question. Her slightly annoyed face with her upturned lips caused her parents to laugh._

" _We're here now to make sure that we send you off with good dreams and long kisses." Her father always made her giggle when he said that, and he said that every night. That was how he sent his baby girl off to sleep with good dreams and long kisses._

" _Daddy you promised to read me a new story tonight remember?" Her eyes bright with the anticipation of her father fulfilling his promise._

" _I did promise, and you know that daddy always keeps his promises," Johnny Anthony smiled down at his daughter. He ran his hand over his face before continuing…_

" _But remember we talked about what a rain check is?" He asked the little girl whose bright eyes quickly recognized that she would not get her wish tonight - the little spark dimmed, "...remember that a rain check is just a way of saying you're going to get exactly what you want, just not right now...remember?" he inquired._

" _...so if you can give daddy a rain check and know that tomorrow night not only will I give you good dreams and long kisses, I'll also read you the New story we talked about." Both Patricia and Johnny Anthony stood in the moments of silence while their daughter slowly took in the words that she had just heard. They could almost see the wheels turn in her brain._

" _But I thought for sure that tonight you were gonna read the story. I don't like rain checks daddy." She moaned looking at the slight smile on the faces of her parents._

 _They looked at each other before focusing their attention back to their daughter. There were unspoken words that they shared - words that she was too young to understand. Even at seven years old she was able to see the connection that her parents had. The unspoken truth. Tonight seemed different. There was something...something else. Her eyes bounced between the two adults unsure of what to make of the looks on their faces. Maybe it wasn't a smile. She didn't know. As a child with two doting parents it really wasn't her job to figure them out. It was their job to figure her out and make her happy. She didn't understand when people said how the world didn't revolve around any particular person. For her, this was the world and it did revolve around her. It was supposed to. That's the way it's gotta be._

" _I know sweetie, but remember I told you about the case that I'm working on, and unfortunately I have another meeting that I have to go to tonight. Wasn't a meeting I had planned but it's one that I have to go to."_

 _Her father was the biggest man in the world. He was bigger than all of the other daddies. He had big hands, big feet, really long legs, and a big face - he was super big. He was better than all the dads too. And she knew because her mother told her that he was a crime fighter. It was his job to right the wrongs that happened in the world. And she knew from her friend Tommy at school that crime fighters, sometimes, have to leave in the middle of the night to fight bad guys. Tommy said that most crime fighters and superheroes can't have families. She was always happy that her dad had her and her mom. But even with that knowledge she was still more than a little mad that he wasn't going to read the story tonight._

 _Johnny Anthony walked closer to his daughter's bed and sat down on the edge. He smiled at her with his bright teeth and used his big hands to lightly stroke her face and her hair. He smiled at her pouty disposition as he leaned down and kissed her forehead._

 _"I promise when this case is over mommy and I are going to take you to Disney World just like we talked about. I just need you to be a little more patient," He smiled at his little girl, "Do you think you can do that for me?"_

 _She looked into her dad's eyes - his eyes were the biggest eyes of any dad, and they were the best eyes of any dad. She removed her grip on Barry and reached out to touch her daddy's cheek._

 _"It's okay daddy because I know you have to go and fight the bad guys. Barry and I can wait for you to read it to us tomorrow," she smiled, deciding to be a big girl this time and not make a big deal about him not keeping his promise._

 _"Thank you big girl. I appreciate you being so grown-up about this." His face was big and bright as he regarded his daughter. He looked over his shoulder briefly at his wife. Michonne noticed that her mother had a look on her face. It wasn't a smile and it wasn't a frown. She stood silently and watched her husband and daughter._

 _"I want you to have good dreams..." he instructed as he leaned down and kissed her cheek, her forehead, her nose, her other cheek, and then repeated the process, "...and long kisses," he smiled. She reached up and took ahold of him - holding onto his neck with her long skinny arms. Her little girl choke hold. He smiled as his daughter held him in her own little death grip. Her reluctance to let him go made him laugh._

 _"Choke holds aren't allowed," the tenor is his voice boomed against her small body. He reached his hand up and tickled her stomach causing her to not only release her grip but giggle._

 _"No daddy...you know I'm ticklish," she giggled; her giggle turning into a full-fledged laugh fest. Slight tears rolled down her eyes as she laughed. She looked over at her mom and saw tears on her mother's face as well. There was a small smile. In the briefest of moments she wondered why her mom was crying. Mommy must think it was funny too she thought. Why else would she have tears on her face?_

" _Okay little love bug, let me get you and Barry tucked in so you can have good dreams. He lifted her legs slightly and slid them under her Care Bear sheets and comforter. He made sure that she and Barry were nicely tucked in. He looked towards the door with an unspoken request for his wife to join him. Patricia walked towards their daughters bed, lightly put her hand on her husband's shoulder, and leaned down to kiss her daughter._

" _Good night love bug. Have good dreams and we'll see you in the morning. Okay sweetie."_

" _Okay, mommy," she took comfort in the warmth of her mom's breath on her face. Patricia reached over and turned off her daughters Wonder Woman lamp - then leaned down next to the bed and turned on the Storm nightlight._

 _The two most important people in her life exited her room. She snuggled closer to Barry. He was the softest of all of her stuffed animals and she loved him the most. She closed her eyes knowing that she would have good dreams because her daddy always sent her off with good dreams. Tomorrow he would read her the new story from their newest favorite comic book._

 _That was the last time she saw her father alive. She never read another comic book._

* * *

ooooooo

* * *

The room was filled with sunlight. Rick turned and extended his arm to the other side of the bed - quickly realizing that he was alone. He stretched, and then smiled remembering their night of lovemaking. They fell asleep wrapped around each other. He was most assuredly the big spoon to her little one. He nuzzled his face into her neck, moving her hair to the side, pulled her closer, and slept better than he'd slept in years; though it was only for a few hours.

His body had aches in areas that hadn't ached in ages. He was certainly not new at sex or various sex positions…not by any means. But the things they did. The things they did were nothing short of incredible. They twisted their bodies in ways that he couldn't remember ever doing before. _I'm way more flexible than I ever thought I was_. He laughed.

He looked around her very modern, very femininely decorated bedroom. In his overwhelming need to make love to her the night before, he hadn't taken the time to appreciate her décor.

They had not known each other very long. And maybe they didn't know each other very well. But looking around her bedroom he knew that this room was exactly her. There were pictures of her mother, her father, and her son at various ages. They were placed in a very delicate and methodical manner on the wall to the right of the _head_ wall - fashioned in the shape of a large octagon. In the center of the large octagon of pictures that was made up of her most treasured family, sat two framed pictures; one of her, her mother and Andre; the other of her with her friends from the law firm. Women that he had decided should be both feared and respected. _Mostly feared_. Yes they **did** scare him.

The bedroom was large and among the other furniture in the room was a medium sized dark wood armoire with a matching antique style love seat sitting in the far corner. On the wall above the love seat were framed pictures of Wonder Woman and another superhero of whose name he couldn't remember. She had brown skin, long white hair, white glowing eyes and an erotic black outfit. Rick couldn't help but chuckle at the oddity of those photos. It almost seemed as if it was in the wrong room. Out of place - but not exactly out of place.

The room was bright. The wall which was the head of the room was dark burnt orange with the two adjacent walls painted a lighter burnt orange.

"The room suits you…" he declared to the carefully adorned boudoir.

He couldn't help but smile at the thought that he would hopefully be spending many nights in this room, and that hopefully she would spend many nights in his. _My room isn't nearly as nice as this one. I'm gonna need to step it up._ He chuckled again.

The smell of coffee and bacon filled the room. He got out of the bed with a stretch and slight groan. He entered the restroom and again acknowledged the tender care of her decorating style. Standing at the sink and looking into the mirror he couldn't help but notice that even though there were slight bags under his eyes indicating that he had not had nearly the amount of sleep that he needed, and there was stubble which needed to be tended to - there was something new. His eyes, just above the temporary dark circles, were different. He stared a little longer, unable to put his finger on exactly what he was looking at. He shook his head and exited the restroom. Walking back into his lady loves bedroom, he smiled again before heading downstairs to the welcome aroma. He could hear her talking as he approached the kitchen…

"Oh ( _silence_ ) yeah ( _silence_ ) I'm looking forward to seeing you too…" he heard her say, "Have a safe flight ( _silence_ ) I will _(silence)_ yeah ( _silence_ ) kiss them both ( _silence_ ) love you too mom…"

He stopped and watched her hold the phone while she flipped bacon. The old memory of watching his ex-wife do the same thing years earlier flashed through his mind. _Who would've ever thought that I could find someone like her? Can't believe I stumbled into this. Into her. Maybe this was where I was always meant to be. You'd better not mess this up Grimes. God she's so beautiful. Her body. My God._ He walked up behind her as she ended the call and gathered her into his arms. She jumped – then quickly settled into him.

"Good morning baby," he huskily whispered into her ear.

"Good morning to you…how are you this morning?" She asked as he began to massage her breasts through her silk robe – her nipples instantly came to attention – as did his penis.

"Didn't you get enough last night… _and_ this morning?" She giggled as he began to untie her robe. His hand slid quickly under the obstructing material. She turned the fire off under the skillet and scooted over to the adjoining counter.

"Rick…" she playfully swatted his hand away, "Don't you have to get to work?" she asked as he moved with her to the counter and placed his hands back up to her breasts.

"There's somethin' I wanna do before work," he seductively whispered into her ear as he began massaging her nipples with his palms.

"Aahh," she moaned, throwing her head back onto his shoulder.

"I just wanna feel you a little bit before we have to get outta here…" he told her. She closed her eyes, attempting to not give into her sudden desire…

When she woke up to his arms wrapped around her she had an overabundance of butterfly flutters all over again. They had made love most of the night but he still smelled so good. She listened to him lightly snore. Turning to face him, she tenderly kissed his lips. An almost overpowering feeling overtook her. _Is this what it feels like to be desperately in love with someone?_ Tears welled in her eyes. She kissed him again. He moved but didn't open his eyes. She ran her hands through his hair before wiping away the few tears that fell. Scooting gingerly to the other side of the bed in an attempt to not wake him, she got out of the bed. _Oh my God I'm sore_. She looked at her sleeping man and smiled. _You have some serious skills Deputy Grimes. I can't even remember the last time I've been sore like this. And I work out._ She laughed as she entered the restroom. "Have I ever been swollen before?" she asked her mirrored reflection while slowly touching between her legs.

"umm…are you…okay…with going…to my mom's for din..er on Sunday?" She stuttered as he moved one hands down between her legs – continuing his aggressive fondling of her breast with his other hand.

"Yeah…that sounds good," he whispered in her ear – removing his hands. She turned around to face him. They intertwined their fingers. She looked into his beautiful blue eyes – overcome with an amazing amount of love and respect for this man. He looked into her bright brown orbs – overcome with an amazing amount of love and admiration for this woman. He pulled her close and captured her lips with his. He could taste coffee as they opened their mouths indulging in the warmth of the other - she could taste mouthwash. "I'm so very much in love with you Rick," she confessed into his mouth. He nodded. Unable to respond verbally. They stood and held each other.

Her robe dropped – he used his foot to separate her legs and began rubbing her wetness. He turned her around. She put her hands out and took hold of the counter. He got up against her and pushed down his boxer shorts.

"I want you again baby…" he told her while stroking himself – using the pre-cum to easily continue the stroke. He then slid his middle finger and his index finger into her warm center. He moved his fingers slowly while she moaned.

"Ahh…Rick," she reached back and glided her hand from his hard abs down to the sparse hair that sat at the base of his penis. She moved his hand and continued the stroke. His erection was engrossing. It was so hard that she had to take a breath to control the rush of heat she felt.

"God baby. You're wet already," he said into her ear as he removed his fingers. He could feel the tightness. Even tighter than it was when he first entered her last night. He was ready to explode just thinking about being inside of her.

"O…o…o…" was all she could say before he slowly pushed into her – gingerly rubbing her breast and her clit.

"I love you…so god damn much," he professed before proceeding to pound into her – in the kitchen – at the counter.

oooooooo

"That is one smug bastard," Sasha whispered to Tara during the interview with Neil Gannon.

"Yep…" Tara agreed. Both women looked at the desk where the former construction foreman sat. They stood in the back of the interrogation room while the officer and deputy conducted the interview. Both Abe and Shane wore the look of frustration as they peered down at the cavalier attitude of the man. The questioning had been going on for nearly thirty minutes and they were no closer to answers than they were when they started. Neil Gannon managed to not only offer no answers, but he also introduced questions that the team had yet to ponder.

"…but he's fine as hell," Sasha whispered giving her friend a subtle nudge. Tara watched Neil Gannon with interest; the type of interest that all the people in the courtroom during Charles Manson's trial probably had. He was an interesting man. Captivating even.

He had a salt and pepper beard – more salt than pepper. His hair was dark with only wisps of grey; a total contrast from the hair on his face. Sitting behind his square rimmed glasses were dark eyes that were contradictingly both vacuous and inviting. Tara had no romantic interest in men, but even she'd have to admit that this was a very appealing and alluring man. But something was definitely off with him.

His smile said both fuck you and I wanna fuck you – which seems impossible. He was over six feet tall and slim. The way he wore his clothes would give one the impression that he didn't care about his appearance – his blue jeans were faded and nearly hung below his hips, his black t-shirt was nondescript, and his brown leather jacket had a very old and worn look. But Tara discerned that his entire look was most certainly that of a man who cared very much about his appearance. He was a man who cared about a great many things. There was a point and a reason to everything that he did. And a point to everything that he said. _Don't let the smooth taste fool you_. She laughed to herself.

"Yeah," Tara agreed; no reason to speak anything other than the truth. She quietly laughed again.

"What's so damn funny?" An annoyed and perplexed Sasha inquired – looking at the self-satisfied look on her friends face. It was the look of someone who was sure that they'd figured out the meaning of life but was reluctant to share the information.

"Just thinking about something…shush," She responded with a nudge to direct her attention back to the man being questioned.

"What exactly is your relationship with Cesar Martinez Mr. Gannon?" An annoyed Abe asked the question for the third time. His face turning almost the same color red as his hair. He was only seconds away from punching a wall; though he wanted to punch the face of the cocky man sitting at the table.

Gannon smirked and took a sip of his bottled water before responding, "Exactly what I've already said. What do **you** think it is?" He redirected the question with a half-smile. This last sarcastic non-answer was the final straw for the officer. Abe made his way over to the seated man within one second. Shane quickly stepped in front of Abe, blocking his access to Gannon. Gannon began to laugh at the anger he'd stirred up in the ginger cop. He'd poked the bear, but the bear wasn't allowed to poke back. Shane took hold of Abe and walked him closer to the door with constant patting on the back and quiet words that the others in the room could not hear.

"Mr. Gannon, we'd just like to know if you had any dealings with Mr. Martinez outside of your contract with the school district." Tara posed the question as she stepped around the table to face the owner of Gannon Construction Co.

"You're a cute little thing," he smirked, "but I can tell that I'm not really your…uh…cup'a tea…right sweetheart." It was a statement, not a question. He smiled and winked. Tara smiled back at him, well aware that she was being bated.

"Look here you piece of -" Tara grabbed Sasha's arm to stop both her words and her movement. She knew that Sasha was about to pounce on the egotistical jerk. And Tara was no psychiatrist, but she was pretty sure that he was a non-diagnosed sociopath.

"Sasha…Sasha," Tara shook her friends arm to snap her out the rage fueled trance that she was currently in. She touched her face to make her focus on her – in **her** eyes, not his.

"It's okay," she instructed looking from her friend and back to the chuckling seated man. This was not Tara's first time at the rodeo. She'd been called names and dismissed most of her adult life. People made assumptions about her once they figured out that she was gay. And they made assumptions about her while trying to figure out whether or not she was gay. It stopped bothering her years ago. But her friends on the other hand; they were a different story. They were as fiercely protective of her as she was of them. Sasha and Rosita were pretty much just waiting for someone to say something so that they could drop kick their ass. Truth be told, that was really the main reason that she generally chose to not go out with them. She loved them and was glad they loved her….but it was exhausting.

"Let me finish Sasha…I got this," she smiled at her friend whose face was currently a lovely mix of brown and red. She gave her a gentle shove towards the door where Abe and Shane currently stood glaring at Gannon. If looks could kill Neil Gannon would undoubtedly be shaking hands with the devil right now.

oooooo

"What the hell is going on?" She asked with quickly rising concern. She could hear the sound of shouting and the grading sound of medal chairs scraping across concrete. Between high school, college and random bars, she'd both seen and been a part of enough fights to know that one was taking place right now.

"What is that?" she asked again, now practically shouting over the noise coming through the phone.

Sasha had enough of Gannon's arrogance. Tara seemed to have it under control. Both Abe and Shane had steadied their temper and were quietly shooting eye daggers at Gannon while Tara spoke with him. Sasha decided to see how the other part of their team was doing. She stepped out of the room and called Carol.

"I can't talk right now Sasha!" Carol loudly responded. "Rick has that racist moron up against the wall right now and Daryl is holding his fist trying to keep him from pounding that idiot in the face. I need to go!" She shouted just before ending the call.

"What the fuck did you say?!" the sworn deputy shouted in Merle Deets' face, "...say it again, I dare you!" he goaded.

"Rick," Michonne said as gentle as possible while taking hold of his arm, "its okay baby..." she attempted to soothe.

The sound of gurgling coming from the man currently being choked against the concrete wall was quickly becoming a cause for concern. Daryl didn't speak as he tried to wrestle Rick away from the retired security officer's neck.

" _Do you need me to call the police?"_ Someone shouted from the other side of the atrium. The team was at Grady Memorial Hospital. When trying to schedule the meeting with Merle Deets, he insisted on meeting at the hospital because he spent most of his days there with a friend who was ill. Carol, Daryl, Rick and Michonne met him in the lobby and walked to the atrium area for more privacy. The conversation quickly went south.

"No…Thank You!" Carol shouted back. "He is the police," she said in the loudest, calmest voice she could manage. She pointed to the deputy's uniform Rick was wearing to ensure the understanding of the concerned citizen before directing her attention back to Rick.

"Deputy Grimes!" Carol shouted in her most authoritarian tone. "Stop! He's not worth it!" She stood behind Daryl making note of the labored breaths of all the men. Daryl was huffing and puffing – his ability to continue holding Ricks arm quickly waning – years of cigarette smoking finally catching up to him.

"Baby, please let him go…please," his lady love pleaded. In her plea he found the safe harbor where he could dock his fury. In her face he saw concern – more importantly he saw fear. He eased his grip on Merle Deets and slowly unclenched his teeth.

"Ugh…ugh…ugh…" Deets coughed as he leaned down, both hands on his knees. "You crazy mother-fucker," he spit out before raising his head. "I'm gonna have your badge for this asshole," he promised as he gathered himself. He rubbed his hands over his red streaked neck – Rick's handprints clearly visible.

"Good luck with that asshole since we all saw you attempt to strike the deputy first," Daryl grumbled while looking at the other members of their team.

Daryl had been around men like Merle all his youth. He walked away from that part of his life. He stepped into a new life with people that he could love and care for based solely on who they were as people. He felt sorry for people like Merle who were forever shackled to the bitterness of a destructive past. At the prayer vigil when he informed Michonne that he'd be accompanying her to the meeting with Merle, he did so with the thought that she might possibly lose her temper and go after the redneck retiree. Never dawned on him that her new boyfriend would try to kill the guy in a very public setting.

"Fucking liar! I never laid a hand of that black-pussy-whipped-son-of-a-bitch," Deets spat out while still catching his breath, "ugh..ugh..ugh" he coughed.

"Shut up you idiot," Carol commanded. Michonne stepped in front of Rick as they all recognized that his hand was again balled into a fist and the momentary calm had dissipated - he was again in the clutches of unbridled anger. She rubbed his chest and leaned into him, "Rick look at me. Look at me my love…" She took his face. He finally looked down into her face. His lips were pressed together so tight that there was barely any delineation between the two... "Ignorant words can't hurt me. I've heard them before, and they don't hurt," his face slowly softened… "Losing you…losing what we could have because we let others determine our fate…that would hurt."

She glanced over at a flushed Deets who currently wore a snarl on his face, then back to Rick. "Please, let's go." He leaned down and kissed her cheek before turning around and stepping away.

Michonne, Carol and Daryl watched Rick turn, run his hands through his hair and step away. They knew that he needed to reel in his temper. He walked farther away and slowly began to pace.

"That fucker is unhinged!" the would be murder victim exclaimed.

"Shut up!" Michonne snapped walking towards the balding man. Daryl walked to her side and placed his hand on her lower back. She turned and looked into his face – His sullen and stoic expression would always be her beacon of calm. She smiled indicating that she was prepared to use self-control. Deets looked at the scene and chuckled.

"So you like the chocolate too, huh," he laughed. Carol spoke quickly, not giving her colleagues the opportunity to respond to the venom being spewed…

"Look Mr. Deets, we are three witnesses that can attest to the fact that you attempted to strike the deputy. We are sworn officers of the court, so our word holds more weight than you might think," she walked closer to the man who was still slightly bent over catching his breath…he narrowed his eyes and glanced at her sideways, "we just need you to tell us if you _actually_ did see Mr. Anthony the night he went missing like you said thirty years ago. And if so, who you _**really**_ saw him with."

"Why should I tell you shit," he snarled. Daryl walked closer to him and stood next to Carol. He bent down and said just over a whisper…"Because we know about your extra-curricular activities at the pool hall. The Atlanta P.D. would probably be _real_ interested in what we know."

Michonne turned away from the scene unfolding in front of her. No longer interested in anything that Merle Deets had to say. She looked towards the new man in her life. Her love. She could see that he was struggling with something that he would never have an answer to.

Her heart nearly broke at the thought that he would have to learn something that she'd known most of her life. Certainly all of her adult life. This was new territory for him though. As much as he thought he understood _these things_ , the truth is that he never would. He never could. It was something that he'd have to come to grips with. The twisted absurdity of it - a black woman feeling sad for what a white man was gonna have to endure in regards to race relations. It was some kind of sick mockery that the universe had bestowed on them. A darkly twisted absurdity.

 _I've lost her. I scared her. The fear in her eyes. The fear she has of me. I scared her. She's scared of me. Damn. Fuck._ He stopped pacing and shook his head. Not willing to turn and face them. Face her.

She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him. He jumped slightly at the sudden contact. She rested her head on his back and rubbed his chest. She could feel the fast pace of his heartbeat.

"I love you baby….and I'm still with you," she expressed softly. They were the only words she spoke – they were the only words he needed to hear. He interlaced his fingers with hers and kept his eyes closed taking in the feel of her body and the warmth of her scent. _Thank you 'My Burberry'_ he smiled.

ooooooo

" _Johnny, I don't understand why you have to go back out. You just left a meeting." She followed her husband to the front door, unwilling to let go of her insistence that he stay home with her and their daughter._

" _I don't wanna keep going through this with you Trish…I already said that I won't be gone long," He relayed with an exasperated sigh while grabbing his keys from the small table in the foyer._

" _Does this have something to do with Milton? You said you forgave me. It didn't mean anything…I'm_ _ **so**_ _sorry," she reached for his hand. He turned around and walked to her. He looked into the beautiful eyes of his wife. Without speaking he leaned down and kissed her lips. Her lips were always so pillowy soft. He ran his hand down the side of her face. She took hold of his biceps. The strongest man she'd ever known._

" _I promise I won't be gone long. And this doesn't have anything to do with you and Milton," he winced at the mention of his partners name. A man that he thought was his friend. "It just has to do with the case," he was riddled with guilt over his wife's discontent._

" _But why do you have to go out so late?" she whined._

 _He kissed her lips again. This time he took her into his arms and parted her mouth with his tongue. She melted in his arms – like she always had._

 _He broke the kiss that was quickly becoming passionate, and tapped her nose with his finger, "I love you baby, and I promise I don't blame you for what happened. I've expected you to sit here and be the dutiful wife and mother without ever considering that maybe you needed more…I'm sorry for that. But this case is just about over and I plan to make some changes that will make both you and our spoiled baby girl happy," he chuckled at the mention of their little girl. Patricia also smiled at how spoiled their little love bug is._

" _Have faith in me baby…please." He pleaded with his words and his eyes._

" _I do Johnny," she reached up to kiss his lips once more, "I'll wait up for you, okay?_

* * *

 _Thanks so much for hanging with this story. Tell me what you think of the update..._


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